


Murdock Wins

by Tulikettu



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety Issues, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Frank, Fingering, Frank and his dog, Frank is a boxer, Frank is a goddamn romantic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Matt owns a gym, Scent Kink, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, and a gentleman, top!matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tulikettu/pseuds/Tulikettu
Summary: Frank Castle is a boxer.Matt Murdock owns a boxing gym.They both want to touch each other.Chapter One - in which Frank arrives in their lives, Karen gets flustered, and Matt likes being called 'sir'.





	1. Round One

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from, but it started running away with me, and this is the result. I'm bumbling through and I apologise, I don't yet know where this is going, but who doesn't like surprises?
> 
> Feel free to send comments or messages stapled to fan art! Making other people happy makes me happy.

It isn't unusual for a smell to transport a person back to a memory in their past, in their childhood. It's called olfactory recognition, and for most people it's nothing more than a warm blast of nostalgia.

 

For Matt Murdock, though, things are a little different. He can smell the history ingrained in things, even if he has no memory of them himself. He can smell a persons whole week on their skin, or their lifetime in a house.

 

Most of the older men he knows talk about the smell of the gym with a soft, misty expression on their faces. He can almost hear their smiles should they come for a visit, the moment they breathe in the scent of stale sweat and leather and the wood polish used on the floors. The same wood polish that has been used for over thirty years.  

 

Matt can smell each different person, their sweat, the traces of blood in the air, shadows of men come and gone, but imprinted, literally, in the fabric around them. 

 

He remembers the way the gym looks from before the accident, when he'd come here to meet his father and train, the buzz the taste in the air gave him every time. He understands what other men feel. Afterwards it took weeks for him to be able to stay more than a few minutes without gagging. But there's almost a comfort to it now, now he's older himself, as though ghosts are there with him, as though his father is, watching, filling the place.

  
  


It's nearly lunchtime on Tuesday when Matt hears the wolf whistles start up. He's in the office, having just hung up the phone on an irate promoter, and is trying to get the ringing out of his ears. He knows who has arrived long before the door opens; partly because the wolf whistling and heckling is a standard welcome three times a week, but also because the air is carrying a soft, floral note to it that stands out like a beacon on a moonless night among the heavy, masculine scent that permanently permeates the building. It silhouettes Karen's figure like a halo, her image sharpest in Matt's mind as she stands before him in the doorway of the office, carrying her freshness in with her.

 

Foggy says she's really hot. Matt doesn't need to see her to know she's pretty. Karen thinks both of them are idiots. 

 

She worked for Matt's father before he passed, coming in three times a week to look over the accounts. She simply continues to do the same now, without fail or discussion of her terms, even though she's frequently berating the boys on their poor business skills. And as she does this for a few other gyms in New York she probably knows what she's talking about, but Matt has got good practise in feigning ignorance and Foggy just makes awkward scoffing, blustering noises until Karen stops or leaves..

 

"Foggy's out printing more flyers, doing some advertising," Matt says, his senses following Karen across the room to the table she occupies, though his head remains still, tilted slightly towards her. “He’s going to go out near the college, to see if he can get any younger men in.”

 

He supposes he expected some praise for that, but Karen just rolls her eyes. And she knows he knows she did. 

 

"Great idea. Send  _ him _ out to spread the word. The only ring Foggy is familiar with looks like a doughnut," Karen says, briefly illuminated by the rustling of her papers as she settles down to work. "Couldn't you have asked Luke to go?"

 

"Luke doesn't speak to anyone. He comes in, trains, leaves," Matt says with a scowl on Foggy’s behalf, wishing he could think of some witty retort to defend his best friend. "He's not going to go dropping flyers for us."

 

"Oh, you asked him? Cos it just sounds like you're being evasive and annoying," Karen replies. "You might be breaking even, Matt, but that isn't enough. Do you know how many other gyms there are? Do you know how much more advanced they are than this place?"

 

"People like it here, it's simple," Matt says growing even more defensive. "They like the aesthetic. And my father liked it this way."

 

"Old men who no longer fight here and only come in on fight night like the aesthetic," Karen argues. "Traditional might sound romantic, the underdog look might win in films, but this is real life. There are places that make your monthly earnings in a day-" Her voice softens slightly. “And your father would have moved with the times, I’m sure.”

 

Matt is about to protest when the door opens again and his ears are filled with the rapid pounding of a stressed heartbeat. Foggy's scent rushes in with it, highlighted by the adrenaline that tells of his fear and excitement.

 

"Uh, Matt, there's- we have a- there's a guy who wants to join. The gym." Foggy is keeping his voice steady even if his heart isn't, and Matt knows it's because the potential client is standing not far away. Matt can hear the new heartbeat, so steady and strong, a heavy bass that makes Matt's own pulse quicken for a second. In the clouded olfactory vision he has of the gym he can work out the newcomer with his slightly spicy, clean smell. He's big. Maybe not tall, but built. And he's gotten this reaction from Foggy-

 

Matt stands and picks up his cane. Only Foggy knows that he's almost more than capable of functioning without it since the accident, so he has to keep up a show. People sometimes don’t take too kindly to people with strange powers.

 

Karen has stood as well, obviously intrigued, smoothing down her skirt and quietly creeping around Foggy to look outside. 

 

The man is standing calmly by the desk on the other side of  the office door, though Matt can tell he's attracted some negative attention from the room. There’s tension, increasing testosterone, grumbles. Matt walks out into it, his cane tapping in front of him. 

 

"Matt Murdock, I'm the owner," Matt says, holding out his hand in the direction of the solid pulse. A surprisingly gentle hand takes his, gives it a squeeze, lets it fall.

 

"Frank Castle."

 

Matt's head tips, watching as the rumbled voice colours in the outline of this man. Muscle. So much of it. Karen's heart is beating a little faster, too. There's a tiny hint of a change in her scent, the addition of a pheromone. Frank is attractive visually as well as chemically, it seems.

 

"Well, Mr. Castle-" 

 

"You're The Punisher," Karen's voice is surprisingly breathy beside Matt. 

 

"Yes, ma'am," Frank affirms. 

 

Karen's heart skips. "But you- why are you- you were-" she stutters out, unable to finish any of her questions.

 

"I wanted a change of scene," Frank says calmly. "Too much attention. What're your fees?"

 

Matt feels the words addressed to him. "Fifty a month for training only. Seventy for regular fights, but you get five percent of the takings if you win."

 

"You debit or is it cash?"

 

"Whatever you're more comfortable with," Matt replies, reaching for an application form, his fingers skimming over the desk. "You fight under that name?"

 

"Yes, sir," Frank affirms again, taking the paper and a biro from Matt. "I was in Queens and Brooklyn. Did circuits there for a while."

 

"Well, The Kitchen might be a bit of a downgrade-"

 

"I'm not looking for fame and fortune, sir. Just a quiet life and maybe a fight every few weeks."

 

Karen seems as though she's about to say something else, but chooses not to. Matt is wondering why he's feeling such pleasant tickles in his body when Frank calls him ‘sir’. 

 

"You'd like to continue fighting under that name, though?" Matt asks, wondering what kind of name  _ The Punisher _ is, anyway. It sounds too WWF.

 

"I'll leave that decision up to you," Frank replies. All of him is directed at Matt, he's even looking directly at Matt's eyes as he speaks, even though he must know he can't be seen. It's refreshing. Matt's known people address everyone else around him because looking at his glasses makes them feel uncomfortable. 

 

He hears the paper being slid back towards him. Normally Matt would hand it to Foggy, it’s no good to him, but this time he puts it down on the desk, keeping a gentle hand on it. The pen is pressed softly against his hand, Frank's fingers touching his own for the briefest moment.

 

Matt gets goosebumps up his arm.

 

"I like to train every day, but usually late. When do you close?" Frank asks, his attention still on Matt.

 

"Uh-" Matt grasps for a reasonable answer that isn't 'when everyone has gone'. "I'm flexible."

 

He's sure there's a small flicker of a smile on Frank's lips, and even more sure that he's starting to glow bright red.

 

"I'll try not to keep you up too late," Frank's voice rumbles, solid and warm, washing over Matt and drowning out everything else for a moment. "I'll be in tomorrow. I can pay the rest of this month in cash, all my details are on the paper."

 

Matt is startled when he feels Frank's hand on his own again, another little squeeze-like hand shake. 

 

"Pleasure, sir. Ma'am," Frank nods at Karen, whose body is all but screaming for Frank's attention. There's another little nod aimed awkwardly at Foggy, who has remained in the doorway the whole time.. 

 

Matt listens to the constantly steady heartbeat cross the gym, hears the reactions of the other men there, more spikes in testosterone, more grumbles and whispers. Then Frank is gone.

  
  


Matt picks up the application and turns to go back into the office. Karen is a shimmering outline of her perfume and her hormones, and Matt wonders why it doesn't excite him right now. Not that he’s complaining, but that's one other annoyance of his super power. Any little flicker in pheromones can get him hard as a rock in a few seconds, even if he really, really doesn't want it. And Karen is hot, she’s turned on, he should want it-

 

Foggy is still anxious, which conflicts so sharply in Matt’s head with Karen's reaction. Frank can't have been a gnarly ball of scars if Karen wants his babies. But as both follow him back into the office he feels them looking at each other, and Matt knows it's only seconds before-

 

"You don't know who he is, do you?" Karen speaks first, as soon as the door clicks closed, too eager to keep quiet. "Neither of you?"

 

Matt gives her his look of absolute ignorance and Foggy splutters something. 

 

"' _ The Punisher _ '?" Karen repeats the name that didn't ring any bells the first time round and makes no further impact this time. "Matt, he's never lost a fight. _ Ever _ . He did the rounds in Queens and Brooklyn, like he said, but he’s never lost. He was making so much money per fight-"

 

"But why, if he's a sure thing?" Foggy asks, finally finding his voice. "Surely that's boring?"

 

"No, no, cos he was going up against just- the worst people. Gangs sent in their dirtiest fighters to take him. Men came from God knows where to try and beat nim. Some of those fights were blood baths but he always won. It was just a case of by how much. Matt-" her heart is racing again, excitement in her veins. Far more excited than anyone should be about blood baths. "Matt, he will bring in so much money here. You're so lucky, he could literally have any owner in The Kitchen offer him a place at their gym. Any of them. I've heard Fisk talk about him, and the Irish guy, MacGinty. If they knew he was around here looking, they'd have been courting him, and you certainly don't have the money for that. I mean, if nothing else he's signed the contract so you get his fees even if one of the others takes him-"

 

"He did sign the contract, right?" Foggy asks frantically, reaching for the paper on Matt has moved to his own desk. For a moment Matt's reflexes want him to pull it back, out of Foggy's reach, but that's ridiculous, and they really do need to know.

 

He can hear Foggy's brain whirring as he looks through all the details. Karen is watching Foggy read. Matt waits and tries to associate the softness of Frank's voice and touch with a man who is also associated with the words 'blood’ and ‘bath'.

 

"It's here. All here, his details," Foggy says, handing the paper over to Karen. "How much money are we taking?"

 

"That's why I'm surprised you don't know of him," Karen says, skimming through the paper again, her heart fluttering still. "It’s  _ a lot _ of money. Six figures, I’d guess. I don't know how much he was making off of them, personally, but presumably a lot if he's going into the ring with people who literally want to kill him. He'll sell out your room out there, no problem-"

 

They'd not had a sell out fight here for years. Matt's dad could pull in a sell out crowd, but he'd stopped fighting a good decade before he passed away.

 

"He's gonna be disappointed," Foggy says glumly, circling from excitement to pessimism in seconds as he slumps in his chair.

 

"He could have gone anywhere," Karen reasons, her tone still incredulous that  _ The Punisher _ was here.. "He must have fought against men from most of the gyms- how did you get him, anyway?" She asks, now erring on the side of suspicion.

 

"He just- he just stopped me and asked for a flyer-" Foggy says, as though it were a terrifying ordeal. "Asked where we were, if I owned the place, then asked me to bring him here."

 

Matt frowns. "You sound like he brought you here at gunpoint. Is he really- y’know- messed up?" He gestures to his face, though he knows Frank isn't, he knows that already, but he wants to hear one of them say it.

 

"He's just muscle, Matt. I mean, scars sure, but nothing disfiguring; a busted nose, but I dunno, there's something about him."

 

Matt hears Karen's intake of breath. She's smiling.

 

"Karen clearly thinks he's hot," Foggy comments distastefully. "I mean if you like thugs-"

 

"He didn't sound like a thug," Matt says. "He sounds like he was in the army." Control and discipline. The way he'd called Matt 'sir'. His fingers tingle slightly where Frank's had brushed them.

 

"Alright, Sherlock," Foggy huffs. "As long as the contract is solid we get his money still once Fisk or McKingly poach him."

 

"MacGinty," Karen corrects, just to annoy Foggy. The contract moves between them again, and returns to Matt's desk, where his hand moves to cover it. "If nothing else he might attract a few new guys in. If this place is good enough for  _ The Punisher _ -"

 

"Is it, though?" Foggy asks, quickly backtracking when he remembers too late that Matt's dad made this place with his own blood, sweat, and tears. "I mean, of course it is."

 

"Smooth, well done," Matt chides. "Go and find someone else to hand out the rest of the flyers, God knows who you might attract next,” he tries to joke. “And don't mention Frank," he adds quickly, the words finding their way out before he can stop them.

 

It's the right thing to do.

  
  



	2. Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank Castle is quite a gentleman.
> 
> Matt Murdock hasn't listened to him in the shower.
> 
> One of those things is a lie.
> 
> Chapter Two- In which Karen is very unsubtle, Matt absolutely needs to be walked home, and Frank reluctantly turns down coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Things are heating up a tiny bit. I know nothing about boxing gyms, or boxing for that matter, but we all know that's going to take second place to all the hot falling-in-love that's going to be happening. 
> 
> Comments and love notes tucked into my laptop bag are always welcome!

Matt is sitting at the front desk the following afternoon. Time is ticking away slowly. He's only half listening to Karen's dictation of their accounts, taking some notes that hopefully Foggy can decipher later, because the rest of his brain is trained on the rhythm of the gym, listening for any changes, or for that steady baseline of Frank's heart. 

Foggy had found some videos online of Frank's fights the night before, and he'd provided some very poor commentary for Matt, who was trying to decipher the movements through the more dominant sounds of the crowd. Foggy was alarmed by the fights, and he had then been skittish for the entirety of today, poking his head out of the otherwise closed office door every so often to see if Frank had arrived. 

It’s nearly six when Matt hears the steady thudding of Frank's heartbeat getting gradually closer. At first it’s diluted by distance, by brick and air and everyone in between them, but it gets stronger, louder. He doesn’t know why it makes his own skip, nor why it sends a flush running through him. Just because he knows more about Frank now, that must be it. He knows Frank's history, he knows how he fights. The dirty way he fights. The air in the room changes suddenly when Frank comes through the door, and Matt lets out a soft breath at his arrival. He could smell him now, too, a tangle of spicy, earthy scents that are so much better than anything else around. Matt tips his head in the direction Frank is coming from, listening to his approach. 

"Evenin'" the rumble of Frank's voice washes over Matt, bringing up a soft halo around the other man. 

"Mr. Castle," Matt smiles. He can hear the smile returned. 

"What gave me away?" Frank asks, resting his weight on the counter between them, bringing himself closer to Matt. 

"I recognise voices. It's my superpower," Matt replies, basking in the crashing wave of Frank's chuckle that lights up his face.

"I got money to pay for the remainder of the month," Frank continues. "My application was fine?"

"Yep, I read it myself, you have beautiful penmanship."

There’s a pause. He can almost hear Frank frowning. "You're shitting with me, aren't you?"

Matt laughs, head still tipped towards the other man. "Yeah, it gets boring sitting here all day, I have time to make up terrible jokes." 

What is he doing? This man has hospitalised people, and Matt is making stupid goddamn jokes- he might as well be complimenting Frank’s eyes and his muscles. 

"You got showers here?" Frank asks, amusement in his voice. That's something at least. He doesn’t think Matt is an idiot.

"Oh, yeah. Yes. And lockers. You want me to give you a tour? That isn't a joke," Matt adds quickly. "I grew up here, it hasn't changed much, I know my way around."

"Yes, sir, please. Lead the way," Frank agrees. 

Matt reaches for the box of padlocks that go on the lockers and hands one over to Frank. They're only small, cheap, metal things, but no one in their right mind would steal from lockers here. Their fingers touch once again as Frank's close around the lock just before Matt's have pulled completely away. 

Frank's heart drums steadily on, though Matt is too caught up in the electricity running down his arm to hear when it skips. He takes his cane with him out of habit, moving around from the behind desk. Frank has a bag with him, now that Matt is focussing again he can hear the fabric rustle. 

"Lockers and showers are together, so we'll go there first. You can drop your bag off," Matt says, turning his head in Frank's direction. Frank moves to follow, his step firm and confident but surprisingly quiet. He walks close enough that his scent drowns out everything else, and Matt really has to focus to navigate across the gym. 

"I don't think this place is as glamorous as you’re used to," he says, once the smell of the locker rooms begins to permeate the bubble of Frank around him. Embarrassment is churning in his stomach, Karen's words from, oh, every meeting they've ever had, echo through his head. This is an old fashioned gym. It hasn't had a face lift in a long time. He hasn’t been in many others, not since he was a boy, but he’s sure that they are all a lot more up to date than his. Matt isn’t sure what kind of fancy equipment could be needed for boxing, but here has has gotten no more advanced than punching bags.

"What is it you think I'm used to?" Frank asks, thankfully amused rather than offended. Matt likes the sound of the smile in Frank's voice.

"I don't know- I mean-" Matt can hear the dripping of the showers that haven't stopped for years, the odd creaking of the water in the pipes, and he knows the tiles are coming away in places. "Our accountant told us about your career-"

"You didn't know before?" Frank asks. Again his tone isn't accusing, if anything it's relieved. 

"No. No- I haven't really been paying that much attention to-"

"It's fine, it's good," Frank's voice echoes around the tiles and distorts the image of him in Matt's mind. "I'd hate to think you just wanted me for my body-" 

Frank's pulse doesn't change, but Matt can feel the heat in his own cheeks. How can someone so calmly spill out those words to a stranger- a strange man!- and not so much as flinch? Matt listens to him inching towards the lockers and as he claims one, the thud of his bag, the squeal of the metal door, clank, click. 

"We have punching bags over the side here," Matt is doing his best to ignore the tension in the air as he walks back onto the main floor with Frank, who again doesn't flinch, as though he doesn't notice the way everyone is reacting to him. "The ring. Usually people just pair up and do a best of three- uh. Or if someone had a fight coming up they get a bit more time."

"Weights," Frank says, moving towards the standing weights on the opposite side of the floor. "You lift?"

"Me?" Matt asks, following, tapping his cane in front of him. "Uh, no, no not really." He shakes his head.

He can feel Frank's eyes on him, looking him up and down. Matt doesn't really wear anything that flatters his figure, everything of interest is hidden under loose, smart-casual clothing. No wonder Frank thinks- whatever Frank thinks.

"There's ropes and balls and- people bring their own things in, too. So if you have anything specialised you’d like to bring you’re more than welcome to. The park is about a hundred metres back that way if you're into doing laps-" Matt pauses, because he's running out of things to say. It's a very short tour. "I guess you don't need the uh, the training plan- you seem pretty- uh-"

"I got my own routine, yeah," Frank says politely. "I'll get started, I don't want you keepin' the place open too late."

"It's no problem. I'm more of a night owl anyway," Matt replies with a gentle shrug. 

He's confused for a moment because the air around him melts into a haze of that woody, clean, masculine scent that came with Frank and it's another moment before he realises that the increase is due to the fact that Frank has taken off his shirt. And he's all muscle. An image of him blooms perfectly as Matt's senses drink him in, and it's all he can do to stop himself breathing in deep, obvious lungfuls of this man-

"Thanks for the tour," Frank's voice slices heatedly through the mist in Matt's mind, warm and smooth. 

"You're welcome," Matt manages. "If you forget where anything is I'll be behind the desk," he gestures vaguely in the direction of the office and front bench a few metres away. 

"I'll keep that in mind," Frank replies, speaking so softly for one who is anything but. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Matt says again, unable to stop the words jumping out, but saving himself from further embarrassment by tapping away quickly. He knows the other men here will chalk his behaviour up to being intimidated by Frank Castle. He knows all of them are themselves. He knows that he can tell Foggy that lie, too. But Matt can't lie to himself, he can't block out his own pulse or quiet the fluttering in his stomach or ignore the tingle against his fingers where their hands had touched again. 

And he can't stop listening to the steady drumming of Frank's heartbeat.

 

Foggy's head pokes out of the office door once Matt reaches the computer again. "Is he here?" he asks in a comical whisper, though he seems genuinely nervous.

Matt nods. "He's by the weights," he says, surprised at the calmness in his voice. "I don't think he's very popular with the other men."

"He's probably broken all their buddies in half at one point or another," Foggy says quietly. "No wonder they don't like him. He's going to drive people away."

"He's hardly antagonistic," Matt replies. "And he's been nice to me." Not just polite, either. He's been almost charming. That isn’t the word that Matt is going to use in front of Foggy, though. 

"I'm gonna get a coffee, then I'll come back," Foggy tells him, creeping out of the office as though Frank could be anywhere nearby, lurking around a corner, waiting to take him out.

Matt frowns. "You're done, go home." Usually he barely gets to yell goodbye at the other man before he’s out the door at the end of his shift.

"And leave you here alone?" Foggy gasps, back in that theatrical whisper. 

"As alone as you've left me every other night," Matt replies a little testily. 

"Well, no-"

"He's only human, Foggy. It's unlikely he's going to murder me when he could have murdered half of New York on his way here."

Foggy frowns, and Matt smiles back. Still, his best friend seems hesitant to leave, so Matt allows him some credit for that. 

"I'll be fine. I'll sit and listen to an audio book, I'll call you when I'm home alive," Matt promises. “Cross my heart.”

“Fine, okay, but if you’re murdered, don’t come crying to me,” Foggy mutters, squeezing Matt’s shoulder gently as he passes by. 

 

Matt listens to the men in the gym finish their workouts, shower, and leave. Like clockwork, the gym is all but empty by quarter to seven. Matt knows this is mostly because their wives or girlfriends have returned from work and have finished cooking dinner. 

Only Frank remains. His pulse is a little faster, his breathing heavier, but otherwise he's quiet. Matt is listening to him, finding the steady rhythm of his body soothing. 

It stops suddenly and Matt is startled out of his trance by the sound of, feet getting closer. The scent around Frank now almost makes Matt weak at the knees. He doesn't smell bad, not at all; it's clean, masculine sweat. He looks up as Frank reaches the desk, smiling at the gentle tap of his fingers on the wood.

"I'm just gonna have a quick shower," Frank says. "I'm sorry for keeping you up so late."

"Bet you say that to all the...gym owners-" Matt wishes he could spontaneously combust. 

"Nah, only the ones I like," Frank says with gentle humour. His footsteps and scent drift away, and Matt tries not to listen too hard to the shower, tries not to hear how the water falls over Frank's body. 

He focuses instead on walking around, turning off the lights, checking everything is in place. They have a cleaner come in in the mornings, but Matt likes to keep things neat. He's only just finished his lap when the shower stops. One light remains on so that Frank can find his way out, and Matt waits.

Frank's footsteps seem to falter in the doorway of the locker room for a moment, probably not expecting the room to be so dark, but then he continues, making his way across to Matt. Matt, who absolutely doesn't draw a deeper breath to see how Frank smells now.

"Sorry." 

Matt really enjoys the rumble of his voice. "You don't have to apologise, really. It's not even seven."

"I won't shower tomorrow," Frank insists apologetically.

"Don't be gross, get out," Matt tips his head towards where the evening air is wafting in gently. Frank obeys without another word, brushing past Matt on his way through the door. 

With practised fingers Matt locks up and sets the alarm, trying to ignore the fact that Frank is still very close by.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Matt asks, a gentle prod to make sure the other man is okay. 

"Shall I walk you home?"

Frank's question throws him, and something must show on Matt's face because Frank adds immediately "I know you can get home on your own. I don't doubt that. But I have to ask."

There's such a gentleness about Frank, and Matt knows he really does believe Matt can take care of himself, that he's offering only because he has sensibilities that would be compromised if he doesn't.

Matt is an only child and he's a selfish boy.

"It's only a couple of blocks that way-" he points with his cane down the street. "If it's not too far out of your way."

He hears Frank shrug. "I'll do a circuit, use it as a cool down."

"Pretty sure you're supposed to cool down before your shower-" Matt says, starting off and trusting that Frank will follow. He does, falling into step beside him.

"Quit your cheek or I'll leave you to the predators of the Kitchen," Frank replies, bubbles of amusement in his voice.

"You wouldn't!" Matt protests. "You couldn't live with yourself if some thug stole my cane."

"No, I'd have to hunt them down," Frank says with a dramatic sigh. "I'm a busy man."

Matt is smiling, almost forgetting to tap his cane on the floor to keep up the full act. "Family?" he asks. Even if Frank is a straight man with a wife and five kids it doesn't mean that Matt can't enjoy this light banter. 

Something about Frank stills, though he continues walking and breathing and living. Something has stopped for a moment, and Matt wishes he hadn't asked.

"Just me," Frank replies, a second too slow. "And my dog. She'll be waiting for me."

"I won't invite you in for coffee, then," Matt says, trying to lighten the mood but hearing the implication of his words too late. Oh, God.

"Maybe not tonight."

Matt is relieved to hear the smile back in Frank's voice. His tone may even be more suggestive than Matt's had been.

They're walking as close as they can without touching, though Matt isn't sure which of them is managing the distance, nor is he sure why he isn't frankly startled that he's flirting so easily with this man, about whom he knows barely anything, aside from his violent reputation. 

He hates that he genuinely does only live a handful of blocks away from the gym, and all too soon he stops them by the entryway to his apartment block. 

Matt feels Frank looking it up and down and hopes that maybe he can detect that same regret in him that, this is where they’ll part. Here they are.

"Well," Matt starts, his cheeks flushing like the traitorous bastards they are. "Thank you for walking me back."

"You're welcome," Frank says with sincerity. "Glad you're safe."

For a moment Matt considers discussing with Frank the possibility of a mad knifeman lurking on the stairs waiting for the ideal blind victim to ambush, but he thinks he might be pushing his luck.

"Goodnight, Frank," he says instead, jarred by the heavy reluctance his voice carries.

Frank is silent for two strong heartbeats. "Night, Matt," comes the soft reply.

Without any other indication, Matt knows that Frank will wait until he's gone inside before he walks away, so he has to be the one to turn first, his fingers tapping in the security code on the big front doors, listening to the welcoming clang of them unlocking. He turns just as the door closes, Frank silhouetted by the sounds of the city and his heartbeat, which paints him in gentle ripples. Matt lifts a hand to wave and sees Frank mirror the gesture before remembering Matt can't see. The door shuts, but Matt can still hear Frank, a little echo of his voice, a gentle 'bye' that he doesn't know Matt catches. 

He waits until he can no longer hear Frank, then makes his way upstairs to let out his caged butterflies.

 

***

"What do you look so happy about?" Foggy asks when Matt walks in the next morning to the smell of coffee and Foggy's morning shower. Matt isn't going to say that he's already been counting down the hours until Frank comes in. That he's been thinking about that on and off since they parted last night. Which is stupid, because he barely knows the man.

So he makes up a lie.

"I slept well, feeling good about the gym- I think things are looking up."

"Because of Castle?" Foggy asks warily. "Did he say anything last night?"

"No, we didn't really talk," Matt replies, which isn't a huge lie. 

"Oh. Well. I'm sure he'll want a fight sooner rather than later. Then we'll see how lucrative he is," Foggy shrugs, picking up some papers and shuffling through them. 

"He's a person, Foggy, not a business model," Matt says waspishly. "Are the papers ready for Karen?"

"Yeah. You want me to do the ordering and see if anyone is going to sign up for-" there's another rustle. Thicker paper. Foggy is holding something aloft. Matt looks at him derisively. 

"It's a poster," Foggy explains quickly. "One of the big fight nights. Pandemonium! We can put in four people."

"Yeah. Yes. See who's interested," Matt nods. "Good. We need to see if we can have one here, actually. When was the last?"

"Valentines night- Karen's idea," Foggy reminds him. "We can tell everyone we have The Punisher-"

"No," Matt snaps. "You don't know that he wants that. He hasn't said he wants to start fighting yet."

Foggy shifts, surprised at Matt's reaction. "Okay. Fine. I mean- fine." He pauses. "Are you sure he didn't say anything to you? Did he threaten you?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Matt tuts. "Do you think I'd come in here like this if I'd been threatened? You met him, he's a nice guy."

Foggy snorts and Matt tries not to get too defensive on Frank's behalf. And he can't tell Foggy that Frank was the opposite of threatening when he walked him home last night.

"What time is Karen coming?" he asks to try and change the subject, which is apparently the wrong thing to do. Foggy pauses in the office doorway, and Matt can hear him smirking.

"Oh, is that why you look so happy today?" the other man asks. “I’m not one to judge, Matty, if you like being treated mean.”

Matt's mood is rapidly changing.

It doesn't improve when Karen turns up very conveniently late in the day, saying her other clients over ran. Matt knows it's a tactical move, because she wants to be here when Frank turns up. She smells of perfume, she smells very feminine, and the scent of her skin is heavier than usual, which implies she has a bit more of it on show.. 

Matt being perched at the front desk at six, on the other hand, is certainly not a tactical move. He's doing his job. And he absolutely isn't going to tell Karen when Frank arrives, because Frank is not an animal in a zoo.

And absolutely more true than either of those things is the fact that Matt does not get a tingle down his spine when he hears Frank getting closer. Because in no way can he tell Frank's heart from the other beats around him. The gym is packed with men doing a good job of being alive so why should Matt hear any one of them over another?

"Evenin', Matt," Frank's low timbre makes goosebumps break out on Matt's thankfully concealed arms, which rest on the desk that Frank is now leaning on, too. 

"Hi, Frank," Matt replies, glad that he at least has his voice under control and doesn't sound like he's swooning. 

"Good to see you."

"You too," Matt says before he realises that that's actually a lie. But he hears Frank smile and quickly lean forward into Matt’s space.

"I knew you were just wearing those glasses cos they look sexy," he whispers softly, before he pulls back as fast as he arrived, walking away towards the locker room.

Matt doesn't move. He doesn't know what to do with himself. The air around him is now swirled with Frank, residual heat from where he leant in so close. He just listens to Frank sorting himself out, listens to him come back into the room and head for the bags. He watches Frank's outline, his torso blurred slightly from whatever shirt he's wearing. There's a little less fuss today from the regulars, but Frank is still keeping himself to himself-

Matt is silent, all of his attention focussed on the way Frank punches, on the way his body moves around the bag. He's agile, knows his body well. A smirk tugs on Matt's lips at the thought of knowing Frank's body well...

"Is he here?" Karen asks, creeping out of the office the way Foggy had the day before. She spots Frank immediately without Matt having to point him out, which Matt knows because her heart rate quickens immediately and the air around them is flooded with her pheromones. Matt also knows she can't help it, but it still annoys him. 

"He's just-" Karen breathes, leaning on the desk beside Matt. "I know he's not your thing but if you could see you might swing the other way."

Matt wants to remind her that she doesn't know what way he swings, thanks, but he refrains, difficult as it is.

Foggy emerges as well not long after, and Matt hears him roll his eyes at Karen. 

"I'm heading home. Make sure she doesn't leave attached to Castle's pecs," he says, apparently more willing to leave Matt now than he was yesterday. The danger has passed. Or maybe he’s convinced that Matt wants to be alone with Karen. Either way, Foggy is breezing by with barely a pause.

"Don't worry, she's finished work, she'll be leaving soon," Matt replies pointedly. Karen shoots him a look she thinks he doesn't catch, but Matt knows everything.

"What time does he usually leave?" she asks, making herself comfortable as she stares across the room. From the shifting, Matt imagines that she’s angling herself to give Frank a view of her assets should he choose to glance in this direction.

"Seven," Matt shrugs dismissively. He only has one night to go by, after all. 

"Do you think he'd notice if I snuck out in his bag?" she adds coyly.

"I think he'd notice his bag was ten stone heavier," Matt replies, knowing full well that's an incredibly bitchy thing to say. Karen seems to agree if the feeling of daggers baring into his skull is anything to go by.

"Eight," she hisses, her annoyance dampening her pheromones for the moment.

"I'm blind, how would I know?" Matt returns.

Karen huffs and turns her attention back to Frank. 

"Are you staying til he leaves?" Matt asks after a pause, because her continued presence is annoying him. Not because he wants to sit here on his own and listen to Frank.

"Hm, maybe, he might walk me to my car. It's a rough neighbourhood."

"Your car is parked round the side with everyone else's- it's like ten paces away."

"But it's dark. And there won't be anyone else around," Karen replies, her tone reiterating that it's not a terrible mugging she has in mind. 

Matt is still. Karen pulls over a chair and sits with him until the gym clears out but for Frank. Frank, who wanders over as he did the night before and seems quite confused at Karen's presence. 

"I’m just gonna get my things, Matt-" he says, pointedly directing his words fully towards Matt, who feels smug at the attention. "Then I'm done."

"Not showering?" Matt asks, though Frank smells divine. 

"No. I said yesterday that didn't wanna hold you up. But if you think I need one-" Frank hasn't turned to look at Karen yet. 

"No, you smell pretty good. Maybe you weren't working hard enough-" Matt quips.

Frank's heart skips slightly. "I'll try harder tomorrow, sir," he says, his attention finally moving away. "Ma'am."

"Frank. Mr. Castle." Heat is radiating from Karen. "Good evening."

"I'm done, anyway," Frank says. He pauses as though trying to work out what to say next. 

"Good. I'll lock up. See you Monday, Karen." Matt pats her on the back pointedly. 

"Mr. Castle and I will leave you to it," Karen says, swinging around the desk and heading slowly in the direction of the door. 

"I need to get my things from the lockers, ma’am" Frank says. "I apologise."

"She'll be fine, she's parked ten steps from the door," Matt says dismissively, clicking off the lights as he walks around the gym.

Karen says nothing but Matt knows that she's annoyed. Her heels click loudly as she heads towards the door, pulling it open a little harder than necessary, letting it bang on the wall. And then it's just Matt and Frank. 

Frank is very still once he has his bag. Very still. 

"Frank?" Matt calls from the door. "Are you coming?"

His footsteps approach, bringing his scent with him, though there's something in his walk, something in his movement that makes him sound heavier than before.

"You okay?" Matt holds the door for Frank to pass, trying to be as subtle as he can in breathing in Frank's smell. He pulls the door closed again, and locks it, and still Frank is quiet. "Frank?"

"Was I rude to your...friend?" Frank asks, seeming to have trouble with the last word. 

"No, no, don't mind her. She fancies you, she was hoping to frisk you in the car park."

Frank let's out a breath. He sounds almost relieved. "I thought you and her may have been-I thought I might have been interrupting...something."

That's a lie. Frank is lying. Matt laughs softly, then a little louder at the implication that he and Karen might have something worth interrupting. Then he stops, because he probably shouldn't be laughing at Frank for a number of reasons. 

"No, no," Matt says, moving towards Frank and accidentally brushing against him. Frank's hand comes up and touches the small of Matt's back, as though to steady him or guide him before Matt has his cane out properly. It's such a gentle touch they Matt forgets what he's laughing at, his focus completely on the warmth of Frank's skin-

"Matt?" 

He realises he's gone quiet, frozen at the moment of contact.

"There's nothing between Karen and I," he tips his head towards Frank. "There's nothing between me and anyone. I mean- I'm not- I haven't been doing anything with anyone."

He feels Frank shift but there's nothing giving away Frank's feelings until he speaks again.

"Seems a waste," he rumbles, amusement back in his voice, finally. "Start small, let a stranger walk you home again."

They walk so close this time that their hands brush. They're silent, though. A comfortable silence. Neither of them seem to want to break it, the delicate bubble they've built around them. 

When they stop outside Matt's apartment he has to draw a breath before he speaks. 

"Your lady waiting for you at home?" he asks, teeth worrying at his lower lip as a rare feeling of shyness steals over him.

"Fraid so-" Frank says apologetically, but how can Matt disapprove of a man who loves his dog? "She's kinda demanding."

"Maybe you should try guys instead-" Matt blurts out, closing his eyes remorsefully, though Frank won’t be able to see them through his glasses.

Frank is still again for a second, and Matt thinks he's been getting this whole thing wrong and maybe Frank is just an oddly friendly guy or-

A warm hand rests against Matt's hip and he sucks in a breath. 

"There are a coupla things I'd like to try, actually" Frank's voice rolls over him only a few inches from his ear. Matt basks in it for a moment too long, and by the time he moves his hand to cover Frank's, the other man has pulled away.

"See you tomorrow, Matt," Frank says, amusement warming his voice even more than usual. 

"Frank-" Matt whines, his hand moving towards him. "Dammit."

"Tomorrow, Matt," Frank says again. Matt doesn't want to think he can hear some kind of promise in his voice. He doesn't want to build up the possibility of more touching for it to never happen-

"Tomorrow," Matt insists, as though he's holding Frank to that promise, anyway.

"Yes sir," Frank smiles as Matt opens his door and goes inside. Frank waits for the door to fully close before he walks away, and even then he lingers for a few seconds before he sets off. Matt isn't listening. He just happens to hear.


	3. Round Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Matt is really quite demanding.
> 
> Frank is a very good host.
> 
> And Rosa doesn't care what her dad is up to, because it's warm outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three! I love these two. I love writing them. I love Frank. I just hope everyone is enjoying it. I know AU fics for this pairing are a bit dubious, but I do love them, so much. 
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying it. Comments are fantastic. So is cake. I have tea if anyone would like some.

Matt fidgets through most of Friday morning and isn't really listening when Foggy tells him about the people who have signed up for  _ Pandemonium! _ . He nods, hearing enough to know there's a good number and they'll probably bring in a bit of money during the eliminations. He'll renew the liquor license for the night. Karen might be pleased, but she probably won’t. 

 

Foggy is disappointed that they haven't asked Frank to fight yet, but Matt isn't going to broach that subject unless Frank himself does. The schedule of events for the year is on the board feet from where Matt sits at the front desk, so he can't miss it. He’s just currently chosen not to participate or enquire, and that’s fine.

 

"You okay?" Foggy asks. 

 

Matt stops fidgeting for a moment. "Just restless," he replies, skimming his fingers over the desk to try and find some paperwork he can read to occupy himself

 

. They empty out earlier than usual on Friday nights, he spends the evening working out in the silent gym, mostly with the bags, going over well practised movements that are cathartic, calming, a ritual he has grown to rely on. But Frank has the habit of staying late too. Will he stay whilst Matt is there?

 

Foggy packs up at half four. Nearly everyone else is gone by half five. Normally Matt would close the doors now, lock up from the inside so that he was alone, but Frank isn't here yet, and he knows the other man will turn up eventually.

 

Matt changes into his work out gear- a deep burgundy vest and some black shorts, if his sources are to be relied upon- and takes off his glasses. He doesn't like to do any physical activity wearing them, he prefers to just close his eyes. He pads across the floor on socked feet towards the bags, choosing one and beginning a slow warm up of stretches, building to punches and kicks that his father taught him, or that his body has learnt on its own over the years. 

 

His own pounding pulse is loud enough, and his brain is so settled into it’s meditative state that he hasn't noticed Frank's heartbeat in the room, the warm smell of outside that accompanies the familiar scent that Matt wishes he could bottle.

 

He stops, panting, and turns his head to where Frank is standing, shedding his outside clothes beside the weights. 

 

"Hi, Frank," Matt whispers, wondering if Frank will even recognise him.

 

"Hey, Matt," comes Frank's smiling voice. "Don't mind me."

 

"Of course I don't," Matt replies, shaking out his arms before he resumes his punches. He's aware of Frank watching him, watching him whilst he lifts his weights with slow, measured movements, deep breathes, steady pulse.  Multi tasking. 

 

Matt leaps and kicks the bag, turning in a twist as he makes contact. It’s one of his more impressive moves. He shouldn't be showing off, but Frank's eyes invite it. 

 

Catching his breath, Matt leans against the bag when he feels Frank getting closer, feels the heat radiating off of him, smells him. 

 

"You fight-" it sounds like a statement more than a question. 

 

"My dad taught me," Matt smiles, still leaning against the bag, though he’s slightly turned towards Frank. 

 

"We should fight some time," Frank says softly, rocking the bag next to Matt's.

 

"I think our weight categories are slightly different," Matt replies. "I hear you're pretty big-"

 

Frank chuckles. "I was thinking of something more unofficial," he says, pushing the bag gently again.

 

"Oh? Sounds awfully like you want to take advantage of my tiny body to get me on the floor," Matt says, turning fully towards Frank, eyes closed, nibbling on his lower lip. 

 

A grumbling purr rolls through the other man. 

 

"Why are your eyes closed?" Frank asks, moving closer. "You haven't got your glasses on."

 

"Helps me concentrate," Matt shrugs. He knows Frank is close enough that they could touch but he's waiting for him to make that move- "And my eyes- I don't like anyone seeing them," he admits, though not willing to tell Frank that it’s because he doesn’t like other people’s reactions, that he knows how uncomfortable the lack of reaction, the slightly unfocused stare makes everyone. He’s had lovers ask him to keep his eyes closed in bed. But it seems stupid to tell anyone all of that when he could just dismiss it as his own self-consciousness. 

 

Though he's somewhat anticipating it, Matt still gasps when Frank's hands gently grasp his cheeks, thumbs delicately tracing his cheek bones. Matt tips his head slightly, seeking Frank. He can see him there, so close, feel his breath on his lips. His body is lit up by the thrum of his heartbeat, of the heat radiating from his skin. 

 

"Open them," Frank commands softly, and Matt can only obey. It doesn't change what he sees, not essentially, but a new flare of light illuminates the shape of Frank in front of him. 

 

"You're goddamn beautiful," Frank whispers, sending a thrill through Matt. He's hungry for more of Frank's touch, just hungry for more of him. 

 

But Frank pulls back and, as he had yesterday, Matt whines.

 

"Get on with your routine," Frank says, a hint of a smirk in his voice. "I need to work out harder, it was implied that I was slacking yesterday-"

 

"Frank-" Matt grumbles, bumping himself against his bag in frustration. 

 

"What?" Frank asks, standing near the suspended bars, pulling himself up- his upper body strength is ridiculous. All of Matt's senses are focussed on him, he can see the ripple of adrenaline going through Frank as he lifts himself, his pulse still heavy but steady. With each lift he lets out a soft breath, a little grunt. 

 

Matt wonders if he's louder in bed.

 

He turns back to the bag and resumes punching, trying to make his blood detour back to his other muscles. 

 

The smell of Frank's sweat is stronger, growing stronger, and Matt is finding it a little too distracting. As hard as he's focussed on the bag and the movements he's done thousands of times, his brain is still wandering to the shape of the other man. On top of that is the tease of his touch, and Matt is sure if he could just kiss Frank his brain would be clear-

 

But should he really be thinking about kissing a man like Frank? Or, more to the point, should he be thinking about that being a thing that could _ really _ happen? Because a lot of people probably really want to kiss Frank, but Matt is consumed by the thought of Frank maybe wanting to kiss him back. 

 

The tangy, masculine wave washes over him when Frank gets closer again, and Matt knows he's been half heartedly going at this bag and it’s probably painfully obvious-

 

"I'm gonna hit the shower," Frank rumbles. "I'll wait for you to finish. Walk you home."

 

Matt isn't going to argue, so he nods his head and smiles. "I won't be long-"

 

"Take your time-" Frank's hand ghosts over his lower back for a second before he moves away towards the locker rooms.

 

Matt can concentrate a little better once Frank is gone, but not so much. Finally he has to give up, all kinds of frustrations blossoming up inside him. Frank shouldn't be driving him from his routine. Slamming his fist into the bag once more, Matt moves towards the showers.

 

He already knows Frank is showering, but he supposes the other man won't mind if he joins him, because Matt is blind, after all.

 

What he isn't expecting as he carefully and nakedly feels his way across the shower room is the sudden increase in Frank's heart rate. Nothing else has made his pulse change, nothing. No amount of physical exertion has made Frank sound anything other than calm. But there's a flutter in it when Matt appears, and it's difficult to keep the straight face of a man who doesn't know he's turning someone else on.

 

The showers are open. Matt hasn't changed that since his father owned the place. It's like high school and Matt's dad decided it would be fine to have the room open with no privacy curtains or- or anything. 

 

Which means both of them can see each other perfectly.

 

The water, its sound and movements, paint the clearest picture of Frank that Matt will ever get. It draws out every muscle and curve and the shape of his heavy cock between his legs. He's a big man in every way. 

 

And he's watching Matt, staring at him hungrily. God, it is hunger. When he hits the water on and hums at the heat and the spray on his hyper sensitive skin he smells a wave of arousal wash off of Frank. Matt can see the heat moving down the other man's body, heading for his already thick cock. Frank doesn't know Matt is looking at him, but Matt can feel Frank's eyes like a caress on his body and he has to turn to the side, has to face away from him, because he has no other way to hide the way he’s beginning to react. 

 

Frank's gaze is fixed on his arse now, and Matt wishes he could trade in every power he has to be able to read Frank's mind. All he definitely knows is that the other man's scent is overpowering everything else and affecting Matt in a way no one's has in a long, long time. 

 

Matt smells arousal every day. He's smelt arousal aimed at him, even, but there's something different about this, about the pheromones coming off of Frank that seems to fill his bloodstream.  

 

Frank isn't touching himself. Matt wishes he would, wishes he would assume Matt is oblivious and take advantage of the sound of the water to cover the slick sound of his fingers on his cock, but Frank is just watching, standing under that illuminating spray, drinking Matt in. It isn't fair that he'll probably touch himself to this view later, touch himself where Matt can’t hear or smell or see the heat and the endorphins rush through him. 

 

He wants Frank to touch him. And he wants to return the favour. 

 

Matt's cock is heavier, hardening, but he knows Frank is interested, he doesn't have to worry about that. So he turns slowly, eyes closed, giving Frank a side view so that he can see how Matt's body is reacting, even as he innocently runs his hands up his chest and through his hair.

 

Frank's pulse is faster than Matt has ever heard it, and the spray of the shower is lighting up his erection. Jesus. Matt's knees tremble, he swallows heavily, and suddenly Frank surrounds him, scent and heat. Matt's hands lift and press against the other man's solid chest just as Frank's cup his face. His lower body is angled away though, assuring their erections don't touch.

 

"You're such a tease," Frank growls, and Matt can feel the words rumbling in his upper body. He tries to tip his head to find Frank's lips, but he's being held too firmly. 

"Will you just fucking kiss me?" Matt says sharply, fingers following the path up to Frank's neck, scratching through the short hair at the back. Cropped. It feels really nice to touch. He's trying to guide Frank forward but Frank is resisting, and he is considerably stronger than Matt. Which is just really not a problem at all.

 

"You want our first kiss to be in this shower room?" Frank asks, his breath warm and damp over Matt's lips. 

 

"First?" Matt asks, inching his lower body forward. "Who says you're getting another one?"

 

"Oh, I'm having all of you," Frank says with such conviction Matt could come on the spot. "Just not in here."

 

He tries to pull away, but Matt's fingers press into the back of his head. No, Frank is not getting away from him. The bigger man grunts gently, but doesn't try any harder to leave.

 

"Kiss. Me." Matt demands.

 

A tremble runs through Frank, a literal tingle down his spine that Matt follows to its destination between Frank's legs. 

 

"Yes sir," comes the softest, sexiest response that Matt has ever heard, but he has no time to think about that before Frank's lips are closing over his own. This time his knees really do go weak, and Matt moans. He's embarrassed by how needy he sounds and how desperate he is, but all of Frank tells him he feels the same. 

 

Matt's lips part and Frank's tongue presses in eagerly. He tastes like heaven, as far as Matt is concerned. And the chemicals between them are electrifying. Frank is a lot more gentle than Matt had thought he would be, but the slowness is perfect for right now. 

 

He isn't ready for them to not be kissing, but Frank is pulling away, reluctantly, but he is. 

 

"No-" Matt whines. "Frank-"

 

"Not here," Frank says softly, his body heat receding as he moves back, turning off his water. Matt's vision of him collapses and for a second he truly feels as blind as he is. Perhaps the other man notices, because Frank is by his side again quickly, a hand on Matt's hip as the other shuts off the rest of the water. 

 

Matt can't help but reach for Frank to steady himself as the sudden yawning silence spreads out around him, finding comfort when his hand presses to Frank's chest and picks up the drumming of his heart. 

 

"I'm right here, don't worry," Frank says, and Matt doesn't think he'll ever worry about anything again.

 

They dry and dress quietly, and Matt puts on his glasses again before he heads back into the main area of the gym, walking slowly around its perimeter to close off the lights. He can hear Frank follow at a distance, hears him walk towards the front door, and indulges in being downwind of him, the breeze from outside illuminating Frank’s clean body as he stands, waiting quietly until Matt joins him.

 

“Are you coming in tomorrow?” Matt asks, closing the door and locking it behind them.

 

“Oh, Saturday, no,” Frank says, a note of apology in his voice. “You work weekends?”

 

“We’re open nine til two tomorrow, I’m in on my own. And Sunday Foggy works, ten til two. Monday we’re closed,” Matt reels off, just for something to say that isn’t another whiny plea. “So- shame, about tomorrow,” he adds, trying not to sound as disappointed as he feels at the gaping amount of time between now and the next time he sees Frank.

 

“I’ll come and pick you up at two, if you like?” Frank replies, so softly he almost doesn’t sound like him. “The girl and I usually go for real long walks at the weekends, we can detour and come past you about two-”

 

“...” Matt says, wishing he didn’t have his glasses on for once, because his eyes are wide and he’s pretty sure that’ll tell Frank everything his words are currently failing to. “I would love that.” Frank’s excuse for not coming to the gym is because he’s spending time with his dog. That’s possibly the sweetest reason to not get in someone’s pants Matt’s ever heard. 

 

“Okay,” Frank nods, as though it’s not a big deal. Maybe it isn’t a big deal. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt wants to slap himself to try and get  back in the moment, because he’s realised that they’re still standing in the entryway to the gym, and he would probably have kept them there all night if he hadn’t been prompted otherwise. “Let’s go.” He reaches out a hand and places it on Frank’s arm, tentative for a moment, prepared for it to be pushed off. But Frank seems more than willing to have it there. He knows Matt doesn’t need the guidance, so maybe he likes the contact- 

 

They’d kissed. They’d kissed nakedly less than ten minutes ago.

 

Frank continues to be present but silent as they walk down the street. Matt wonders if they're going to be pretending that nothing happened, that they didn't- but it doesn't seem like Frank. He doesn't seem like the kind of man to ignore something like that. And he's already said he's coming by tomorrow to pick Matt up so it doesn’t make sense that they wouldn’t maybe discuss...things. The heat coming off of Frank and the speed of his pulse, those are giveaways that he’s still in a good place, that he doesn’t regret anything.

 

Matt has decided that when they reach the lobby of his apartment he's going to ask Frank up again, because he needs to prompt something. Even if Frank says no, he should be able to tell if he wants to and just can’t-

 

Despite his confidence in that, by the time they reach his front door Matt is a bit nervous. The butterflies are back, doing ridiculous acrobatics in his stomach.  "Do you want to come up for a coffee?" he murmurs, his hand sliding down to Frank's lower arm. 

 

Frank shakes his head quickly before he remembers Matt is visually challenged. "No-" he starts, and Matt let's his hand drop, wanting to end today with some dignity. "I- do you wanna-" Frank's pulse suddenly spikes again, a rapid, nervous flutter. "You wanna grab some clothes or something and come back to mine?" 

 

The words come out in a rush, but no sooner have they hit Matt's brain than he’s nodding his head eagerly. Okay, fuck dignity then. "Yeah, yes. Yes, I would," he agrees, taking a step towards the door, his coordination somewhat stifled by his eagerness and lack of concentration. And possibly the blood already making its way south. "You wanna come up whilst- you wanna- I won't be long?"

 

"I’ll stay down here,” Frank replies.  “Else we won't go anywhere but your bed and I'll be in trouble when I get home."

 

Matt hears the grin in Frank's voice and returns it, fumbling with the front door.

 

"I'll be five minutes," he says. "I'll see you in five minutes." 

 

It actually takes him ten minutes because all of his senses have gone insane and he needs a little time to compose himself. What does he need? Pants, a clean shirt, toothbrush? Something to sleep in?  Does he need to bring something to sleep in? Or will they- they'll probably sleep, right?

 

Matt worries that Frank will have gotten bored with the extra five minutes he's had to wait and gone, but his calmer pulse greets Matt as he makes his way down the stairs. He wouldn't normally use them, keeping up the image of being completely blind, but he doesn't want Frank to have to wait as long as the lift might take.

 

He's already opened his mouth to say sorry as he exits the building, but he hears the gentle skip in Frank's heartbeat and he forgets everything else. 

 

"You ready?" Frank asks, a smile in his voice. 

 

Matt nods, reaching out a hand for Frank, to rest it against his arm again for guidance. A little bit of him expects Frank to pull away this time, because these streets are not the most tolerant of places, but Frank doesn't even flinch. He supposes no one would dare yell any slurs at a man who is ninety-nine percent muscle.

 

"I'm not far," comes the gentle, assuring rumble of his voice. "And Rosa will be excited to meet you. She won't bite, but she ain't small, so be ready. I'll let her outside and feed her, so she'll be distracted."

 

Frank lives on the ground floor of what Matt supposes was once a full house until property prices went up and landlords started squashing people in wherever they could. He stands Matt by the door whilst he rummages for his keys, and at this distance Matt can smell that Frank owns a dog. It’s strange that her smell isn’t on him the rest of the time, or it blends subtly in with Frank’s own scent, or Matt has been very preoccupied with other things-

 

A booming bark greets them as the key slides into the lock, and Frank whistles softly, a gentle little melody that immediately quiets the beast on the other side. 

 

Beast, it turns out, is a massive overstatement. Matt can see the size and shape of her vaguely from her pulse and the heat and happiness she gives off when Frank walks in, and she’s big, but she’s so in love with Frank her enthusiasm makes her quite puppy-like. In turn, Frank melts completely, kneeling down to wrap his arms around her, mumbling into her fur and telling her what a good girl she is and how much he’s missed her. 

 

“You wanna say hi to Matt, Rosie? Say hey- I promise she won’t bite,” Frank repeats, unblocking her path so that the heavy bundle of dog crashes into Matt’s legs. Her stumpy tail bashes him around the knees, and her soft muzzle nuzzles his hand before she bestows enthusiastic kisses to his palm. 

 

“Hi, Rosa,” Matt says, pulling a face as she eagerly drenches his fingers.

 

“Stupid big softy, come on, outside,” Frank says, and Rosa immediately abandons Matt to follow her daddy to the back doors, which open (after a few locks have been clicked and slid) out into the small garden. 

 

Matt takes a few steps into Frank’s home, holding out his damp hand and trying to work out the layout of the rooms. It isn’t massive, he can sense the size and shape of the space, but there’s only Frank living here. And Rosa. 

 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Frank is by his side again, his firm hand taking hold of Matt’s upper arm, the other more gently around his wrist. “This area is the lounge, round here, sofa, TV- there’s the big bathroom here,” he guides Matt towards a door that leads into a surprisingly large, echoing bathroom. “The toilet is straight ahead, here,” Frank continues. “Sink here, there’s a shower and a bath just behind us-” 

 

As he speaks, Frank gently moves Matt’s hand towards each thing he lists. Matt has no idea how or if Frank actually knows that that is the most helpful thing he could do, especially as he believes Matt can see nothing at all. But his consideration is ridiculous, Matt can’t believe this man is real. Or that he punches people in the face a lot for money. Everything about him so far has been careful, thoughtful, gentle. 

 

Once he’s washed the puppy kisses off of his hands, Frank leads him out to the lounge again. 

 

“There’s stairs here,” he continues, turning to the right as they leave the bathroom. “Leads up to my room. There’s a door at the top- Are you okay with stairs?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, no problem. Unless you were planning on carrying me up,” Matt replies with a little grin, touching his fingers to the bannister. 

 

“I’m happy to accommodate,” Frank says, closing his hand over Matt’s instead of holding his wrist. He continues to guide him around the room slowly. Matt can see the outlines of things on the shelves, things on the walls, but they’re all mostly flat so he’ll never be able to work them out. “Kitchen is back down here. Rosa’s bowl is tucked out of the way so it shouldn’t bother you. I don’t think there’s anything that you can hurt yourself on,” Frank muses, seemingly genuinely concerned. But of course he is. He’s a goddamn dream.

 

“Honestly, I’ve bumped into a lot of things in my time,” Matt tries to reassure him. “Don’t worry too much.”

 

“I was thinking of cooking, but perhaps we should get take out- I don’t wanna- I kinda wanna spend this time with you.” Frank sounds nervous, and Matt just wants to kiss him again. He wants to kiss him until Frank is reassured. Actually, they’re both here, alone, and Frank invited him to spend the night. It’s pretty obvious they’re on the same page. 

 

He turns and leans against the wall, hooking his fingers into Frank’s belt loops and tugging him closer. Frank moves without any resistance, bracing his hands either side of Matt’s head. 

 

“You should kiss me again,” Matt whispers. 

 

“Oh, you think?” Frank teases, closing in Matt’s space, their breath ghosting over each other’s lips. “And then what?”

 

A shiver runs through Matt, because there are so many possibilities. So many. “Kiss me elsewhere?”

 

Frank huffs out a soft, pleased noise, and Matt can feel his heart beating hard against his own chest. He tips his head back to seek Frank’s mouth, breathing in deeply as their lips touch. He’s had a fair few first kisses, but none of them have ever made him literally weak at the knees the way both of Frank’s have. The other man’s fingers inch over, slipping into Matt’s hair, stroking through gently. Everything is gentle, nothing is rushed, as though Frank is happy in the knowledge that they have all the time in the world. His tongue skims over Matt’s lips, which part all too eagerly for him. The kiss deepens and Frank presses closer, his half hard cock nudging against Matt’s thigh. Matt’s throbs in return, triggered by the cloud of pheromones rising around him and the fact that this man really wants him. 

 

The clipping of claws on the wooden floor pulls them apart when Rosa joins them to get her dinner. Matt is certain she’s looking up at him with some curiosity, the man who is being pressed up against the wall of the kitchen with a gentle force, who is making her dad’s heart pound so fast- 

 

“Hm, I’ll be five seconds,” Frank whispers, pecking Matt on the lips and moving back carefully, as though he’s aware that the sudden openness of the room will disorientate a blind man. Jesus Christ, Matt’s hit the jackpot. 

 

He waits for Frank to pass him and then moves from the wall, carefully sensing his way across the living area to the sofa. He toes off his shoes and crosses his legs beneath him, running his fingertips over the fabric around him, letting his other sense stretch out and fill in the details of this smaller bit of space. It’s oddly cosy, he thinks. Oddly comfortable for a man who- yeah, punches people. 

 

“I don’t have any menus in braille,” Frank moves up beside him, his jacket and shoes elsewhere now, plonking himself down next to Matt. “What do you fancy? I’ll read them to you. Do they do menus in braille?”

 

“No, I usually just go for a ballpark dish and get my lover of the time to find the closest one on the menu,” Matt replies, grinning. Frank’s heartbeat doesn’t change, but Matt is suddenly not sure he’s said the right thing. “I’m joking, I’m really very much joking. I don’t- I don’t go through people like that. This isn’t something I do a lot.”

 

“You’re funny, Matt,” Frank responds. “You don’t have to explain everything. It’s none of my business what you’ve done in the past.”

 

“But I’m hoping you think it’s your business what I do now,” Matt asks, frowning just slightly. “I mean-”

  
“Yeah, I’m hoping you’re gonna be doing me,” Frank says, his fingers touching Matt’s jaw, cupping his cheek. “And I’m kinda hoping you’re gonna wanna see where this could go.”

 

Matt moves before his brain has even caught up with him, shifting over the sofa and swinging his leg across Frank’s thighs to settle in his lap. 

 

“Well, this is a pretty good direction to start, I guess,” Frank chuckles, his laugh vibrating through Matt. Matt can feel the shape of Frank’s cock against his thigh, half hard and pulsing gently. His hands move to Matt’s backside, taking a cheek roughly in each palm and squeezing.

 

No one has ever made Matt want to just rip his own clothes off. No one has ever made Matt want to be completely naked so quickly. 

 

“Tell me what you wanna eat and I’ll order it now, else we might never get anything. And you’re gonna need the energy,” Frank promises softly. 

 

“Chicken, noodles, spring rolls,” Matt lists off quickly, leaning in and pressing his lips against Frank’s jaw. There’s a tiny hint of stubble. He smells amazing. Frank’s pulse leaps against Matt’s mouth as it moves down his neck. 

 

“Got it-” Frank breathes, standing up with Matt in his arms.

 

Matt groans at the ease with which Frank lifts him, feeling all of the muscles in his upper body tensing and moving. He finds himself deposited gently back on the sofa, still trying to kiss Frank’s neck as the other man pulls away. 

 

“Two minutes,” comes another soft promise, and Matt reluctantly lets go, slumping against the cushions and listening to Frank call for their food. Rosa’s paws trot over the floor again, and out of the back door. The weather is warm, it’s nice outside. He can hear her walking on the grass, hear her body on the ground as she rolls in the sunshine. She’s happy here. Frank loves her, it’s obvious. Matt’s only had a tiny taste of Frank’s affection, but he’s already as happy as a puppy basking in the sun. 

 

Frank’s mouth and hands drag Matt back to the here and now. Their lips press together, fingers reaching and tugging at each other’s clothing. T-shirts are blissfully easy to remove, though they have to break apart in order to pull the useless material over their heads, discarding them on the floor. 

 

Matt’s hands move almost feverishly over Frank’s skin, painting a picture of him with his fingers, feeling the coarseness of scars on his arms and his back, probably from fights. Matt wants to know about all of them, he wants to touch them and trace them and find out every inch of this man’s body. Frank is touching him with a little more care, though there’s no doubt of the heat in it. 

 

“Dinner will be half an hour,” Frank informs him, and though on paper they’re not the sexiest words, Matt gets their full meaning. _ Half an hour _ . 

 

“Plenty of time, then,” he whispers back, sliding his hands down to Frank’s arse, groping, tugging him closer, and as he moves, Matt feels the solid shape of his cock against his thigh.

 

“Hmh, what do you want to do?” Frank’s grin is pressed against Matt’s neck as he speaks, his tongue tracing a long, hot line up to Matt’s ear. 

 

“You promised me kisses,” Matt replies, arching so that Frank has more skin to lick. 

 

Frank grumbles happily, sitting up slightly and reaching for the dark red glasses. Matt freezes, his hand flying up to Frank’s wrist, stopping him. 

 

“You want to keep them on?” Frank asks, immediately drawing his hand back. 

 

“You might want me to,” Matt replies, feeling colour rising into his cheeks. “It’s okay.”

 

“Do  _ you  _ want to keep them on?” Frank repeats, his tone firmer, though still caring. “Why do you think I’d want that?”

 

“Cos- it’s kind of off-putting, it’s not, y’know, it’s not sexy,” Matt mutters, knowing he’s killing the mood completely, and that half an hour is going to be a long time to wait in awkward silence for food. “I can’t see you. My eyes don’t do anything, they just- they just stare and-” self consciousness crashes over him. “I can’t see, I have to live my whole life just- like this. Damaged and- I can pretend when my glasses are on that I’m not, can pretend people don’t know and-I’m sorry, Frank. Sorry.”

 

“Matt,” Frank touches his fingers to Matt’s lips, then his cheek. “You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot of guys in my career. First moment you walked out of your office I wanted to touch you, wanted to know how you tasted. And it’s not like I didn’t know you were blind then. You think it matters to me? Honestly? You think that? I looked into your eyes earlier and I told you you were goddamn beautiful and I stand by that. I read on the web how I could make it easier to take you to new places, like bringing you here, how I could show you round and make sure you didn’t feel out of your depth. I got a braille printer on my- on my eBay list- so I could print labels for the shit in the cupboards in case you- in case you needed to like, find anything-”

 

Matt presses his hand to Frank’s chest, feeling his heart back at that quickened pace that seems reserved only for Matt. He’d thought of all of that in the space of three days? Before they’d even kissed? Before he’d asked Matt to come back here, Frank had thought of how to make his home accessible to him. 

 

They’re both silent for a moment as Matt tries to process the feeling of someone caring about him so easily, so completely. It’s selfish, it’s a few selfish seconds because he can feel the rising panic in the other man’s body, that long stream of words dragging out Frank’s vulnerability with it. 

 

Lifting his fingers, Matt slides off his glasses and reaches out to rest them on the coffee table that’s just within the stretch of his arm. He turns his eyes to where his senses tell him Frank’s are, waiting for a reaction. Frank has a tiny flutter in his pulse, but he seems to be waiting for Matt to initiate something. 

 

The same fingers now slide through Frank’s hair, enjoying the sensation of the short strands as they part for him. 

  
“You should be kissing me,” Matt whispers, which is as much Frank needs. Seconds later their mouths have met again, and after all of that Matt’s eyes have slid closed anyway, enjoying the renewed heat that has flared up between them. Frank rolls his hips, making both of them groan into the kiss as sparks of pleasure burst in their veins. Pushing gently at Frank’s temples, Matt forces their lips apart, gasping in a breath whilst he can. He opens his eyes, certain that Frank has opened his, especially when he feels that tiny flutter again. “Now, kiss me elsewhere.”

 

The tremor that runs through Frank is one of the sexiest things Matt has ever felt, a shiver through the otherwise solid body of this man as though he’s melting at the words. There’s no hesitation. Frank is very willing to obey, lowering his head and pressing his mouth to Matt’s neck, working his way slowly but purposefully down his body. 

 

Matt keeps his hands on Frank’s hair, firm but not forcing him, enjoying the intermittent thrills that run across the bigger man’s skin. 

 

“OhmyGod-” Matt gasps when lips and tongue find one of his nipples, teasing it into a hard little bump before circling it mercilessly, each circuit sending jolts of pleasure down his body. It seems strange that no one has done this to him before, or at least done it so expertly that his cock begins to ache almost painfully without any other stimulation. “Nono,” he hums, adding a little pressure to Frank’s hair, pushing him lower. 

 

Again, Frank goes obediently. 

 

His mouth meanders down to Matt’s belly, an area which seems to please Frank a lot, because the kisses become suddenly very indulgent, breathy and lingering, focussing on the softness between Matt’s hipbones. The sensuality that’s going into each press of his mouth makes even Matt’s stomach feel like an erogenous zone, especially when Frank is all but purring as he licks around Matt’s navel and nips at the trail of hairs that lead down into his pants. 

 

For a brief moment Matt wishes he’d worn sweatpants for easier access, but Frank’s hands pull open the buttons and drag down the zip effortlessly, his lips dragging up the aching length of Matt’s erection through his underwear. It could be because they’re on a time limit, or it could be that Frank just desperately wants him, but he wastes no time in teasing, his mouth closing over the head as it’s released, following the shaft down as he eases the material away. 

 

Matt lets out a shuddering moan, pushing his hips up, rocking into Frank’s mouth. Frank could hold him down if he wanted to, but he accommodates the thrust, making a soft, pleased sound in the back of his throat. Instead of holding him down, Frank’s fingers simply rest at Matt’s waist, thumbs stroking the curve of his hipbone. His head moves up and down at a slow, steady pace, sliding up to Matt’s head before easing back down again, his tongue sweeping over the tip every few strokes to lap up the pre-come. A burning pleasure is curling up in Matt’s stomach, everything building up, gradual but intense, and all he can do is whimper helplessly. 

 

He wonders if he should warn Frank that he’s about to come, but then again he’s hardly being subtle about it. His whimpers are suddenly gaining in volume, his hips twitching, fingers flexing against Frank’s head. In response, Frank picks up the pace, moaning as Matt begins to pant, Frank’s name on his lips before the hottest, sweetest pleasure he’s ever felt washes over him. He forgets how to breath, trembling uncontrollably as Frank swallows around him.

 

Even with the absence of Frank’s mouth a few moments later, Matt continues to shiver, every nerve in his body singing happily. 

 

“Oh- my God-” Matt whispers eventually, his fingers petting Frank’s hair. “That- that was-” he can’t remember the last time he’d had an orgasm like that. But then again he can’t remember the last time he wanted someone the way he wants this man. This man, who is waiting so still and patient for Matt to recover himself, the smell of his arousal pouring off of him. Frank is illuminated by it. And he’s rock hard. 

 

Matt inches into an almost sitting position against the arm of the chair, not too fast because he loves the heat of Frank’s hands on his skin and he doesn’t want to dislodge him. He’s still panting, rather dazed, but he wants to return the favour. 

 

“You okay?” Frank asks gently, a slight rasp to his voice. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt nods slowly. “Wow. Uh-You might need to bring yourself to me,” he flexes his fingers in Frank’s direction. “I don’t know how far I can move.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Frank replies, carefully tucking Matt back into his underwear. “There’s plenty of time. Just relax.”

 

“I can’t relax when you’re-” Matt starts, then stops suddenly. Frank doesn’t know that he can smell him, that his senses can fill in all of the blanks to compensate for his lack of sight. His ability to smell everything, Matt thinks, borders on the creepy side, but it’s also the strongest way he has of identifying things. And fuck, the scent of Frank’s arousal is blocking out everything else. “-when you’re so turned on.” Matt finishes his sentence, closing his eyes. “I want to hear what you sound like when you come.”

 

“Not as lovely as you,” Frank replies. “You make my name sound sexy.”

 

Matt rolls his eyes, hearing Frank chuckle in response. “Frank, please?”

 

“I’ve never had someone beg to jerk me off before.”

 

“You want me to beg more?” Matt asks, reaching his hand forward further, looking for any part of Frank. He finds his head, raking his fingers across the short strands of hair. “Come on, Frank. Dinner will be here soon.”

 

“Oh, honey, you sure know how to talk dirty to a guy,” Frank purrs playfully, pushing against Matt’s hand, guiding it down his chest. 

 

The sensation of stroking Frank’s sweaty, muscled skin is almost orgasmic for Matt. His eyes close again, focusing in on the way the other man feels, and how he can feel his heartbeat, how the heat of him almost burns his fingertips. Frank’s stomach is solid, and Matt would swoon if he wasn’t already laying down. He can imagine Frank on top of him, his cock pressing against his abdomen, rubbing against the muscles. 

 

Matt’s hands jump down to the button and zipper of Frank’s jeans, and he really has half a mind to tell Frank he should just wear sweatpants to and from the gym because they’d be much easier-

 

Frank’s moan cuts off the rest of his thoughts, the twitch of his cock focussing all of Matt’s attention between his lover’s legs. He already knows that Frank is a big man, but once his briefs are down and he has him in his hand, Matt can really feel his width, and the weight of him. The scent of his arousal nearly makes Matt giddy, the pheromones warming his blood again. His fingers move slowly up and down Frank’s shaft, a teasing pace, but Matt’s enjoying the tremors running through the other man’s body. He loves the reactions he’s getting. The sweet, soft noises someone like Frank had no business in making. But God, Matt wants them all, he wants to hear every sound he can get, touch this man in every way to find out what he likes. 

 

“Matty, please, faster, please-”

 

“Hm, I like it when you say please,” Matt replies, pressing his thumb against Frank’s head, feeling a bead of pre-come run down to meet it. 

 

“Oh, Christ,” Frank rasps. “Please. Please. Faster. Matty.”

 

_ Matty _ . Matt likes that. He’s never liked it before, it’s always made him feel like a child, but there’s a softness in Frank’s voice, an affection that colours the word. 

 

“Will you come if I go faster?” he asks sweetly, tightening his grip, picking up the pace just slightly. 

 

“Oh God, yes. Yes,” Frank pants. 

 

Matt can hear his fingers gripping the sofa cushions, can feel the heat pouring off of him as he gets closer to his orgasm. It’s been awhile since he’s done this, since he’d made a man come, with his hand or otherwise. He hadn’t had a man inside him for a long time, and he wanted Frank. Desperately. 

 

“If I make you come now,” Matt says softly, “are you still going to be able to fuck me?”

 

Frank moans, the sound almost like a sob. 

 

“Tell me you’re going to fuck me,” Matt repeats. “Otherwise I’m stopping.”

 

“Jesus, Matty-” Frank is getting closer. Matt has no intention of stopping. He just wants these reactions. “Course I’m gonna fuck you. I want you- so much- I wanted you- s’why I asked you- please don’t stop-”

 

Matt smirks, stroking faster. His own cock is half hard again, but that can wait. They have all the time in the world. “I want you, too-” he whispers.

 

That, apparently, is enough for Frank. Matt closes his eyes, but the rest of his senses are focussed on Frank, on the way his body is suddenly so brilliantly lit up with his pleasure, the way his orgasm rolls through him, the shamelessly loud moans that fall from his lips over and over. It’s amazing. Matt has never felt so overwhelmed by someone’s reaction. Never felt so pleased with himself. 

 

He doesn’t stop until he’s sure that Frank is done. Until he can feel him coming down, his breathing deep and slow and soothing, his heartbeat loud, steady, evening out. Matt is about to ask Frank to kiss him, but there’s no need, Frank’s mouth is on his within seconds. Matt can still taste his orgasm on the other man’s tongue as it presses against his own. The kiss goes from dirty and passionate to slow, sensual within a few moments. Frank’s fingers cup Matt’s cheeks, Matt’s run slowly up Frank’s sweaty back, feeling the muscles moving-

 

The doorbell rings. Rosa starts to bark, scurrying in from the garden and skidding over the polished floor. Frank chuckles softly against Matt’s lips. 

 

Matt wonders if he’s already in love.

  
  



	4. Round Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is a gentleman.
> 
> Matt likes the noises he makes.
> 
> Rosa's just happy to be here.
> 
>  
> 
> Additionally, this chapter contains Matt having some major anxiety and a little panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this chapter. I don't say that about a lot of things I write, usually I hate them and throw them at the internet then run away and hide. But I really enjoyed writing this. So... I hope everyone enjoys it.

Matt sits on the edge of Frank’s bed listening to the other man downstairs, clearing up and putting Rosa to bed. There’s such a gentle domesticity to everything, there has been since he got here. Frank had saved some of his food scraps for Rosa, made her sit and give him her paws and roll over, rewarding her each time. Her tail had wagged lovingly all the while, wanting to please Frank and make him happy. Matt understood. And Matt feels completely at home here. 

Frank’s room is smallish, and there’s no kind of embellishment that Matt can work out. Just the bed, a small cabinet either side of it, and the wardrobe. Opposite the bed is a door to a tiny ensuite, just a toilet and a sink. Nothing more. 

He wonders if Frank has ever shared this bed, this home with anyone on a more permanent basis. He’d lived here even when he’d worked in Queens, he’d told Matt. He’d driven or ridden several subways to get to his old gym, more comfortable being away from home than fighting too close to his front door, which had obviously been a good idea after his reputation had begun to build. Frank’s sanctuary and Rosa had been kept out of the light. And knowing that, Matt had been even more humbled to have been brought here, to have Frank do all he could to accommodate him. But Matt wonders if the frames downstairs hold pictures of a past lover that Frank has seen no need to remove. He wonders if Rosa was meant to be the prelude to a baby. A man like Frank, the man that Matt has gotten to know over dinner, is a catch. He’s a good catch. That he’s single seems a miracle in itself. 

Matt hasn’t been able to smell anyone else, though. Aside from the frames that he can’t see, there’s no evidence of anyone else having been here.

And he doesn’t feel the need to ask.

Frank’s footsteps sound on the stairs, and Matt turns his head towards the door.

“I’m sorry that took so long,” Frank apologises. “She was excited by you being here.”

Matt smiles, though his stomach is twisting nervously now that they’re very much alone together. And it’s bedtime. The bag that he brought with him is on the bed, but he isn’t going to just pull on his pajamas and get under the covers. If nothing else, he really wants Frank to undress him.

He can hear the other man’s heart fluttering just as nervously nearby, and Matt stands up to find him. He’s barely taken a step when Frank’s hands are on his waist, drawing him closer to his body. Matt is still not over just how solid Frank is, and as he leans himself into the embrace, he feels the pleasant surprise of his half-hard cock.

Eyebrows raised, Matt’s hands slip down to grasp the shape of it, smirking at the hitch in breathing and pulse that follows.

“You’re keen,” he teases, touching his lips to the corner of Frank’s mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Frank says softly, genuinely apologetic, though his voice is a slight rasp and his cock is growing harder in Matt’s hand.

“Please, don’t apologise,” Matt whispers. “It’s flattering.”

Frank chuckles, turning his head so that their lips meet. “I know you’re blind, sweetheart, but you must know you’re pretty easy to look at,” he murmurs, their mouths moving together as he speaks.

Matt smiles, stroking his hand up and down the hardening length.

“Take you clothes off,” he says quietly. “I want to look at you.”

Frank doesn’t seem to find that an odd request, or he just doesn’t question it.

“Yes, sir,” he whispers, pulling back from Matt, tugging his shirt over his head again, throwing it to the corner of the room. Matt closes his eyes, as though that might help him focus the rest of his senses, letting him build up Frank’s image again.

“You realise this means I have to touch you everywhere, right?” Matt asks, his own pulse picking up as Frank’s hands move to his bottoms, pulling them down slowly as though Matt can really see him. The heat of Frank’s erection is just beautiful, and Matt’s cock is quick to respond as well.

“I was counting on that, yeah,” Frank purrs, hot and naked and stepping closer. 

Matt’s fingers move out to meet him, pressing first against his abdomen, drawing in a breath at the right, firm muscles. “Have you always been fit?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Frank nods. “I was a marine before.”

“Before boxing?” Matt queries, dancing his fingers up the solid six pack to Frank’s pecs. 

There’s a different kind of skip in Frank’s pulse. There’s a part of his life that Matt knows nothing about.

“Yeah, yeah before boxing,” Frank replies.

Despite knowing Frank is holding something back, Matt doesn’t push. It wouldn’t do to push. They have time.

His fingers continue moving, brushing over the knotting skin of a scar above Frank’s right nipple. He’s felt smaller ones on his way up, but this one is bigger.

“Fight?” he asks, tracing the length of the old wound with his fingers before leaning down to touch it with his lips. Tiny prickles of goosebumps spring up at the contact. 

“In Queens,” Frank says. “Someone came at me in the ring with a broken bottle. People would try anything to take me down.”

“You’re undefeated,” Matt says quietly. That isn’t an excuse, though. Moving his lips to Frank’s neck, he begins kissing slowly upwards. 

“Mhm,” Frank sighs, most of his attention focussed on Matt’s lips and the fingers that are now teasing his nipples. Between their bodies his cock twitches. 

“You like that?” Matt asks with a smile. “A lot of men don’t.”

“Glad you’re comparing me to all your other men,” Frank murmurs with a little laugh in his voice. 

“Well, it’s bonus points,” Matt replies, immediately relocating his mouth to Frank’s chest, running his tongue over the hard bump of one nipple, drawing a low, rumbling purr from the other man. 

Matt’s hands stroke slowly down Frank’s back, finding more of the bigger, deeper scars. From war or boxing he doesn’t know. And now isn’t the time to ask. Right now Matt has a lot more on his mind, like the trembles of Frank’s muscles as his fingers move down to his bottom. Matt steps closer so that Frank’s cock is pressed firmly between their bodies, fully hard.

Matt draws in a breath at the feeling of it. “It’s been a little while,” he says softly, because it’s going to take a bit of time for him to get ready for- all of that.

“Do you want to be on top?” Frank asks softly, his arms sliding around Matt’s waist. “Would that be easier for you?”

Matt frowns, mostly at Frank’s lack of hesitation at the offer. Most men- well, most men that Matt has been with haven’t asked, just assumed Matt would bottom, so Matt always has. He wouldn’t have thought Frank would be the kind of man to- he didn’t think Frank would like that.

“We can do whatever you want, Matty,” Frank murmurs to fill the silence that Matt has let drag on in his wonder. “We don’t have to even-”

“No, no, I want to. I want to be with you-” he whispers back, because Matt is sure he’s never wanted anyone so much in his whole life. “Can I be on top?” his hands grope Frank’s bottom roughly, as though he could possibly pull him closer. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Frank smiles, touching their lips together. “I wouldn’t have offered if I did.”

Matt has no idea what he’s done in his life to deserve this man who is actually perfect for him. But he has waited thirty two years. And that’s a lot of waiting. 

Frank’s hands are on his hips, pushing him slowly backwards towards the bed. Matt goes. Of course he goes. HIs own hands still grope hungrily over Frank’s backside, enjoying the feeling of the tensing muscles and oh, God above, he’s going to be enjoying that arse very soon. Despite his line of work, Matt hasn’t been with a lot of big guys. None that have even come close to Frank. And he really likes it.

His legs hit the edge of the mattress, and Matt stops them both, pulling his tshirt off over his head, then hooking his thumbs into the waist of his pants. He and Frank are nearly the same height, so even as he stands there, their noses touch, their lips almost graze. 

“Do you have a preferred position?” he asks sweetly.

“Just you inside me would be peachy,” Frank replies, his voice low and husky and Matt is now genuinely convinced that Frank wants it. Wants Matt on top. Wants their first time to be like this. 

Matt hums happily, pressing his hand to Frank’s chest to nudge him back a pace, letting him step away from the bed. “Lay down,” he demands, waiting for Frank to obey. 

He’s surprised that Frank does without protest. He’s surprised at how easily Frank gives in to him every time. 

Matt opens his eyes and focuses them on where his senses tell him Frank is, stretched out on the bed, beautiful and naked and hard. His fingers are back on working his pants and underwear down, stepping slowly out of them. He can feel Frank’s eyes fixed on his cock, can hear the way his pulse stutters. Matt doesn’t get to feel this kind of power a lot. Ever.

Climbing slowly onto the end of the bed, Matt crawls towards the other man’s body, smiling when Frank spreads his legs to make room for him. 

“Did you just spread your legs for me?” he asks, because he shouldn’t be able to see that.

“You know I’m keen, you already pointed that out,” Frank says, huskier still. 

Matt kneels up and runs his hand down the inside of Frank’s thigh, reaching his hip then slipping downwards, cupping Frank’s balls in his palm. He smirks at the reaction he gets, the whole body jerk in response to his touch. Frank’s fingers are twisting in the sheets, his body arched beautifully.

“Do you want me to-” Matt starts, trailing his touch downwards in a very definite direction. “Or would you rather?”

“Shit, Matty, you can finger me,” Frank growls. 

Matt seriously appreciates how Frank can put things into words when he can’t. 

“Do you-”

Frank’s fingers untangle from the sheets and he reaches for the bedside table closest to him, pulling open the drawer and reaching in for the lubricant he clearly keeps on call. He passes it to Matt, pressing it gently into his hand before he reaches back into the drawer and pulls out an unopened box of what Matt can only assume are condoms. Frank really has been prepared. But he seems hesitant, holding the box, not yet opening it.

“Okay?” Matt asks, running his lube free hand down Frank’s leg. “You want to stop?”

“You don’t mind that I assumed-?” Frank starts, giving the box a little shake to indicate to Matt what he’s referring to.

Matt laughs. “No! God no! You- shit, Frank, you’re the most thoughtful man I’ve ever met. Of course you got condoms. Of course you prepared. I mean, the lube seems a little used-”

Frank laughs, and Matt smiles at the sound and the colours it paints Frank’s body. He hears box opening, the foil tearing slightly as Frank removes one from the strip, keeping it in his hand and putting the rest back in the drawer. 

Matt runs his hands gently down the insides of Frank’s thighs again, leaning forward to kiss his belly, purposefully ignoring his cock. Frank groans happily, threading his fingers through Matt’s hair and giving it a little tug.

Matt debates sucking him off, but as much fun as that would be there’s more to be hand.

He sits back with a smirk and knows that Frank is watching him undo the lube (Matt desperately wants to know what Frank does when he’s alone) and squeeze it onto his fingers. He feels Frank’s body shift, his hips angled slightly to give Matt better access. Both of their hearts pound heavily when Matt reaches down, pressing gently against Frank’s entrance. He feels the almost instinctive clench before Frank can will himself to relax, allowing Matt’s finger to ease carefully inside him. He’s so tight that Matt thinks he’s never going to fit, but fucking Frank with his fingers isn’t the worst thing that could happen.

The soft sigh that escapes Frank is all the encouragement he needs, pushing a little firmer, deeper, biting down on his lip as Frank returns to gripping the sheets and writhing like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever felt. 

Matt wishes he could make out more of Frank’s expression, but the heat of the other man’s body and the scent of his arousal is just as glorious.

“You’re tight, Frank,” Matt smirks, drawing his finger out slightly and pushing in again, listening to Frank’s breathing hitch.

“Been a while,” Matt can hear the smile in his voice. “At least since someone else did this. You’ll fit.”

There’s a moment of dizziness when Matt’s brain supplies him with all the potential things that Frank does do to himself when he’s alone, for all his confidence in his ability to take Matt. 

He works another finger in beside the first, gently, and Frank’s body is very accepting of it. And Frank, Frank makes sounds that Matt has never heard anyone real make. Honestly, Matt is considering just doing this, he can take care of himself with just the memory of those noises and the way he can see Frank arch and squirm. Matt’s breathing is picking up to match his lover, pushing his fingers in and out, then curling them, stroking his insides, eliciting even more glorious moans and sighs and then a cry, an orgasmic little noise when Matt finds his prostate. 

Yes, Matt has found his most favourite thing to do.

“Matty-” Frank rasps, heat drifting off of him, outlining him spread out on the bed. “Kiss me? Please kiss me?”

“God-” Matt replies. He remembers begging Frank to kiss him before, but he’s more than convinced than nothing he’s ever done could be as sexy as Frank asking the same thing. 

He leans down, his fingers inside Frank still, pushing deep as he moves up the other man’s body, moaning himself as Frank tips his head needily towards him. 

Their lips meet in a gentle kiss to start, but then Frank’s fingers are back in his hair, holding Matt close, deepening the kiss, their tongues sliding slowly over each other. “More,” Frank breathes out once before his mouth is on Matt’s again, stopping any question of what it is he wants more of, but Matt gets the picture. A third finger presses into Frank, meeting slightly more resistance this time, but Frank only hums through the kiss, very actively relaxing his body and breathing through the stretch. 

Matt has never really fingered another man, but the grip around his fingers is painfully erotic. He likes it. He’ll like it more around his cock, he knows, but he’s filing away a lot of things for later. For next time. He strokes his fingers in and out, each time seeking Frank’s prostate, smirking when he feels the clench and grip of muscles when he finds it. Yes, Matt could do this forever, until Frank is writhing and coming beneath him-

Frank stretches, stretches his arms above his head and Matt hears the foil of the condom being opened. Even that is erotic. Matt has no idea how Frank is managing to crank everything up to eleven in that department, or how he’s managing to still keep up the intense kissing even as he groans at the fingers fucking into him. His hands move down between them, finding Matt’s cock and sliding the rubber over it. 

Matt gasps out at the touch, almost having forgotten about his dick and it’s desire for attention and friction in the heat and pleasure of touching Frank. He stills and breathes out softly against Frank’s lips, their mouths barely touching, their noses bumping.

Matt is drowning in the intimacy. 

“Now?” Frank asks, as though Matt is the one who needs preparing, as though Matt needs to be run through it gently. Neither of them have been intimate with anyone else for a long time. Desperation is warring with respectful patience in them both, but Matt’s desire for Frank is frightening in its intensity, and his nods his head, nipping gently at Frank’s lower lip. 

For the moment he has to pull back, but pulling back means that he gets the drink in the colours of Frank’s body, the heat and the scent of him. He’s glad, so glad that he has something that allows him to picture this man. Super powers or not, he’s blessed. 

Matt’s fingers slide slowly from Frank’s body, though he rests them gently against the inside of the other man’s thigh to guide himself, inching forward, pressing the head of his cock against the rim and then pushing in slowly. Both of them groan together as Matt breaches. Frank doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, running them through his hair, then punching them into the pillows, then twisting them in the sheets. Matt wants to lean forward desperately to give Frank’s hands something to focus on, to feel them gentle or rough, caressing his skin. 

His own hands now both grip Frank’s strong thighs, his eyes closed, focussing himself. He can see the heat between their bodies, he can see where his cock meets Frank- God, the heat. 

Frank is quiet, patient, waiting for Matt. Like he’s easing Matt in. Matt gives his thighs a gentle squeeze and then twitches his hips forward, penetrating another centimetre or two. Frank keens sweetly. It’s barely anything but Matt loves that sound and he’ll only get more by pushing in again. He does, adjusting his weight so that he can move up his lover’s body, his cock sliding deeper, gradually, not stopping until he’s bottomed out. Frank is breathing slowly, has been breathing slowly the whole time, keeping his muscles from tensing up too much. He makes another sweet sound once Matt is buried in him, and again Matt has no idea how a man like Frank can still do things so beautifully, how his strong body is still so elegant.

“Matt-” Frank breathes his name like a prayer.

“I’m here,” Matt whispers back, pressing his lips against Frank’s stubbled jaw.

Immediately Frank’s hands are on him, one fisting in his hair, the other stroking down his back. Matt shifts once more, cradling his hands behind Frank’s head.

“Feels so good,” Frank tips towards Matt’s lips, touching them with his own. He curls one thigh over Matt’s, changing the angle slightly. For a second the urge to pound into him, to roll his hips and press his cock against Frank’s prostate is all that Matt can think about. But he resists. He resists right up to the point when Frank makes a little whimpering sound and nips at his lower lip. 

He doesn’t have to say anything else. 

Matt does roll his hips back, pushing forward into Frank, drawing out another noise that this man is somehow making. Matt can’t stop. That sound makes Frank more beautiful than anything else has up to this moment. So Matt just can’t stop. His hips continue in their motion, drawing back barely an inch before he’s deep inside Frank again, the head of his cock brushing the other man’s prostate and making his muscles ripple every time. Frank doesn’t hold back on the noises, but he’s also not incredibly loud, which Matt is ever so thankful for. He’s bathing in them and the smells that are rolling off of his lover. His clean sweat, the pheromones that make Matt dizzy with desire, the growing scent of Frank’s arousal as their bodies move together and his cock leaks between them. Frank drags his nails gently up and down Matt’s back, his other hand alternating tugs of his hair and gentle strokes. Their lips meet, and in contrast to everything else the kiss is rough and dirty. Matt can taste Frank’s lust and it’s intoxicating. 

Warmth is pooling in Matt’s lower body, but it’s a slow build, a steady rising heat. It feels amazing. Everything feels amazing. 

“Jesus, Matty, you’re so gorgeous,” Frank gasps between their kisses, fingers tightening in Matt’s hair. Frank’s body is moving slowly to meet Matt’s, a gentle rock towards the movement of his hips. It’s still shallow and deep and blissfully intimate. Matt can still feel the pulsing of Frank’s cock between them, but he doesn’t want to touch him yet. 

Gorgeous. Frank thinks he’s gorgeous.

Matt rewards his praise with a slightly harder thrust of his hips. Frank sucks in a breath and makes one of those sweet noises again, all of his muscles tensing and relaxing in a wave. Matt isn’t one to hesitate when he’s got a good thing in hand, he thrusts again, covering Frank’s mouth with his own, swallowing the sounds he’s making. They’re a little louder, but needy. Christ, Frank is making needy noises and it might just kill Matt but he’ll die happy. So, so happy. He feels Frank’s leg tighten around him, as though to hold him in place, keeping the angle, keeping Matt deep, right there-

“Oh God, right there-” Frank whispers. Pleasure is radiating from him and Matt sees his most exquisite image yet of Frank, his body, his lovely face and the expression he’s wearing. 

Matt obliges the command, quickening the pace of the hard thrusts, beginning to moan himself. He doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to drown out any sound Frank makes, but he can’t help it. Everything is building up, building up. Frank is whimpering, muscles clenching and relaxing, clinging onto Matt all the while. He’s close, both of them are, Matt can feel and smell the change in Frank’s body as he nears orgasm. Their mouths barely brush but they pant against each other’s lips, breathing each other in. 

“Matt- Matt- Matty-” Frank gasps, his muscles tightening. “Touch me? Touch me? Please, please, so close-”

Matt’s hips stutter slightly as he changes position and Frank gasps, the sound changing into a low, rumbling moan when Matt’s fingers wrap around his cock, jerking it in time with his thrusts. Frank utters a little cry, his whole body tensing up, gripping Matt like a vice. Heat rolls over him like waves, coloured by the pulses of pleasure that rock Frank, covering his belly in come. Matt can’t drink in the image fast enough, he wants to watch Frank’s face, he wants to watch the muscles of his body as they clench and tense, he wants to map every inch of him as he’s lit up beneath Matt, throwing the rest of the room into utter darkness with the brilliance of him. 

The second Frank begins to relax, Matt rocks forward again, biting his own lip in case his voice blurs the vision of Frank he’s built. Three thrusts is all it takes before Matt’s pleasure peaks, hips stuttering again as he comes too, breathing out Frank’s name, leaning down to find his lips, to kiss him, to get him as close as possible. Frank meets him halfway, their kiss rough and messy and needy, gentle fingers in his hair coaxing Matt close and keeping him there. As though Matt is going somewhere. 

“Okay?” Frank whispers when they pull back to breathe, bumping their noses together.

“Mhm,” Matt nods slowly. “Wow. Yeah.” He swallows, then realises that he’s just pounded himself into Frank and “Are- are you? You’re okay?”

“Oh God yeah,” Frank grins. “Yeah. Yeah.”

 

Frank’s sheets are blissfully soft against Matt’s skin. Part of him still can’t believe this has happened, that he’s spread out comfortably on Frank’s bed, that Frank is taking such good care of him, that their sex was just- just so good. He can still feel the pleasant tingles through his body, can still feel the sparks of it in the air around him. The whole bed smells of Frank’s body, of that clean scent Matt caught the first day they met, and now of his sweat, his arousal. He wants to bury his face in the pillows and breathe in, wants it to linger on his skin. 

The bed dips and Frank climbs onto the bed beside him, tucking himself under the covers and cuddling up to Matt’s side, wrapping an arm over his chest and pulling him close. Matt goes more than willingly, being little spoon, their bodies fitting together so comfortably. 

“I set my alarm,” Matt whispers. “I’ll try not to wake you.”

“Mmph,” Frank replies. “I wake up at half five usually. So if you’re planning on being earlier-”

Matt snorts. “Okay, Captain.”

“Lieutenant,” Frank mutters. Matt can feel him grin against the back of his neck.

“Sorry, lieutenant,” Matt whispers, mirroring the grin when Frank squirms slightly behind him. “Night, Frank.”

“G’night, Matty.”

 

Matt can’t remember the last time he woke up in bed with anyone. Anyone that wasn’t a drunk and hungover best friend. Frank’s big, solid body is considerably different to floppy, grumbling Foggy. And Frank’s cock is hard, pressed against the small of Matt’s back, which sends tingles through Matt’s body. It’s after half five, but Frank is breathing slowly and steadily, still asleep. He can hear Rosa padding around downstairs, probably expecting her breakfast. She’ll hate Matt for distracting her dad so much. 

Shifting gently, Matt gropes for where he put his phone the night before to try and check the time, but Frank’s grip tightens on him, accompanied by a grumble and a nuzzle and finally the deep exhale of a man waking up. 

Matt grins.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Frank makes another rumbling sound, one that runs through his chest, manhandling Matt onto his back and half covering him with his body. Matt isn’t complaining. He feels Frank reach in the direction of their phones, hears him flick on the screen, hears him hum. Then their lips are touching and Frank’s hand is roaming slowly down Matt’s side-

“It’s nearly half six,” Frank whispers. “Guess I was tired.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Matt murmurs, dragging his nails slowly down Frank’s back.

Frank purrs and leans in to kiss Matt again. “I need to- what time do you need to leave?”

“Just after eight, I guess-” Matt replies, enjoying the slow pulse of Frank’s cock against his thigh. “So-”

“I need to go and sort Rosa out,” Frank smiles. “I’ll be four minutes, tops.”

“Oh? And then what?” Matt asks cheekily. Frank is soft, warm colours this morning, radiating a gentle heat. 

“Then I’m gonna bring you up a coffee and see what you want for breakfast,” Frank’s smile turns into a smirk as he shifts his weight off of Matt, climbing out of the bed and stretching. He’s solid muscle. Matt doesn’t need to be able to literally see to know that. He’s in his boxers, the fabric barely blurring the shape of his lower body. “Are you okay getting around? You remember where everything is?”

Matt wants to tell him the sex was good, but it didn’t destroy his brain, but then he remembers that Frank actually genuinely cares about him, and that the question is serious. And it’s also the unspoken permission for Matt to go wherever he wants, to not have to wait for Frank to come back up if he doesn’t want to. 

“Yeah, I’m good, I remember,” Matt replies with a smile. 

Frank has paused, everything about him soft and silent so it’s difficult for Matt to build a picture. He frowns, unable to tell what expression is on the other man’s face, or what he’s looking at, or why he’s-

“You’re honest to God the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Frank rumbles gently, opening the bedroom door. Puppy claws clatter on the floor downstairs as Rosa comes to say good morning. “I’m gonna leave the door open, okay? Be careful.”

“I’ll be careful,” Matt nods, flushed still at the compliment and the care. 

Frank creaks gently down the stairs and Rosa whines happily.

“Hey, hey baby girl, sorry I’m late, daddy slept in, yeah he did!” Frank coos, making gentle growling noises as he no doubt gently roughhouses with his dog. “You want some breakfast, yeah? Huh? Can you smell Matty? Is that what you’re snuffling at- come on-”

His voice gets softer as he moves away from the open door, but Matt can still hear him talking, chattering away. He grins, climbing gently from the covers that smell like them, making his way towards the stairs. As though he can’t wait a few minutes to be with Frank again. How is he going to make it through a work day? 

 

Frank makes them coffee in the fanciest sounding coffee machine Matt’s ever heard. And it tastes really good. They eat eggs and toast on the sofa, the morning breeze drifting in through the open back door. Rosa lays on the floor near them, chewing on something and rumbling happily. Matt talks about the gym, inheriting it from his dad, how he kind of loves it even if it wasn’t what he dreamt he’d do. Frank tells him about how he started fighting professionally. How he couldn’t throw a fight no matter how much was offered to him to do so. He turns the subject rapidly on to Rosa, and Matt wonders what he did to give himself away.

It’s going to be a hot day. Probably specifically as he leaves work at two. He’s smart casual, as usual, and Frank is in shorts and a loose vest and he smells divine. Rosa is trotting along beside them, pausing to sniff occasionally. Matt’s hand is resting against Frank’s bicep, letting him guide them back to the gym. There’ll be a few people waiting to go in already, there always are, and Matt thinks he should forewarn Frank so that he can pretend he’s not with Matt, or pretend he doesn’t know Matt, or just fake something to save himself from being the subject of more mutterings. 

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” Matt says gently. “There’ll be people there waiting. I don’t want it to be awkward for you.”

“Will they give you shit?” Frank asks. Matt can hear him frowning, can feel him tensing slightly. 

“No, no, but- if you’d prefer-”

“You think I care what people say? Or what they think? Let ‘em say what they want. Maybe I just bumped into you, or maybe I took you back to my place for sex. Ain’t none of their business.”

Matt flushes. But of course Frank has to be like that, has to put every other man Matt has been with to shame. Of course he has to make Matt doubt if he’s ever really been in love with someone, because no one has ever made Matt feel this important. 

Frank is looking at him. 

“Will they give you shit, Matty?”

“No,” Matt replies. He’s very much convinced of that. Not only because he knows a lot of the men at his gym really don’t give a damn, but because he knows none of them would be stupid enough to threaten him if they thought he was sleeping with Frank Castle. Seriously. 

“Fine. Then I’m walking you to the door. And we’ll pick you up outside later. At two.”

 

There are only two men waiting outside when they arrive, both drinking power shakes and speaking quietly to each other. They look up and fall silent when Matt and Frank (and Rosa) appear, but whatever they’re thinking they hide it well.

“Mornin’ Matthew.”

“Murdock.”

Silence. Then.

“Mr. Castle.”

“Mornin’, Mr. Castle.”

“Gentlemen,” Frank greets them, standing patiently a few paces back as Matt taps his way towards the door to open up. He says nothing more, just waits, solid and present.

“Thank you for walking me in,” Matt says once the first two men have gone inside. “I’ll see you later?”

“I’ll bring lunch,” Frank says softly, a little smile lighting his voice. “Later, Matty.”

 

Saturday’s pick up from midday, the men wandering in for the last two hours of opening, but Matt is never really alone. Luke always comes in at ten, like clockwork, and the regulars, usually slightly older men, friends of his father, who don’t have the stamina for rigorous daily workouts. 

Matt has an audio book, one ear bud tucked in his ear so that he can listen with the other, keeping most of his senses trained on the room. 

The clicking of heels on the wooden floor makes him frown. It’s not Karen. It doesn’t smell like Karen, the gait is different. The reaction of the men in the gym wavers with uncertainty. So it’s no one they know.

“Mr. Murdock?” the voice is unfamiliar too. Honeyed. Matt pulls out his ear bud and angles himself towards the visitor.

“Speaking,” he says politely, rapidly building up a picture of the sharply dressed, sharply sented woman. 

“I’m looking for Frank Castle.”

Matt tips his head. “May I ask why?”

She simpers. “It’s a private matter. Do you know where he is?”

“Well, is it a legal matter? Or a personal matter? I mean, I wouldn’t want to hinder any legal proceedings-”

“It’s a- it’s personal,” the woman seems to be a little put out by Matt’s avoidance. “We’d like to offer him a contract at our gym. Of course we’d compensate you for...losing him as a client.”

“We?” Matt asks. “Are there more of you?”

“I’m here on behalf of Wilson Fisk,” the woman says, her tone growing just a tad more frustrated with every word. “We heard that Frank Castle is training here, that he’s resuming fighting in the area, and we’d like to offer him a contract with us.”

“So you’re asking me where he is so that you can poach him from me?” Matt muses. “That’s not a very good business model, ma’am.”

“We’ll compensate you, like I said. Money is no object. You point me in the direction of Frank Castle and Mr. Fisk will be very thankful.”

Matt taps his forefinger on the desk slowly. “What if Frank Castle doesn’t accept your contract?”

“Well, I don’t think that’s likely,” the woman scoffs. “No offense, but- you know?-” there’s a pause in which she looks around the gym with a sneer that Matt shouldn’t be able to see. So he pretends he doesn’t.

“Ma’am?” Matt asks innocently.

He feels the heat of embarrassment wash off of his new acquaintance. She’s gesturing to a blind man. 

“Mr. Fisk can offer a little more in the way of- esteem. And equipment. We can arrange fights for him, promotion, agency, everything he needs to keep on top. People are clamouring to get in the ring with him and he- well, perhaps you haven’t been made aware of how sought after he is. Or perhaps you just don’t have the, eh...resources to provide. But we have a lot. For him.”

Matt shrugs his shoulders. “If that’s what Mr. Castle wants, I’m sure he could have found it himself. But just in case he’s been brain damaged from all those hours in the ring, I’ll pass on your message.”

“So you have seen him?” the woman snaps triumphantly. Her nails tap on the desk one at a time. 

“Ma’am, I’m blind, I haven’t seen anything,” Matt shrugs again. The nails stop in one hard tap. “But if Frank Castle comes by I’ll pass on your message. What was your name again?”

“Please, don’t worry. I’ll find him myself,” the woman remains nameless, giving him a bitchy sneer that Matt stares blankly at. “You’re out of the deal, Mr. Murdock.”

“Have a good day, ma’am,” Matt replies, every part of him on edge as he listens to her click-click her way back out of the gym. 

He remains as he is, rigid, listening to the men around him continue their work out. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. It’s certainly nothing to do with what she said about the gym, he gets enough of that from Karen. He doesn’t know if it’s the thought of Frank going elsewhere- would that put the brakes on their relationship? Are they having a relationship?

Woah, Matt. One crisis at a time. 

He wishes Foggy were here. Foggy is great at shooting people down mercilessly and then insulting them colourfully afterwards. Matt could do with some of that right now. 

Frank can move to another gym. Of course he can. His job is fighting, he needs to work. 

Wilson Fisk might have money but Matt would bet he’d put Frank in some horrible fights. He’d look after Frank for as long as Frank was undefeated, and then he’d be nothing. 

Frank doesn’t seem like the casual sex type of guy, does he? And he’d made his home so accommodating to Matt, it isn’t as though he was just thinking of dragging him back for a quick fuck and then maybe a buddies with benefits situation. You don’t watch a braille printer on eBay if you’re not serious about someone, right?

Matt can’t offer Frank a lot of money here. The fights pay, Matt doesn’t take a big cut, but it’s not something a man can live off of full time... 

 

Gentle fingers tap on the desk and Matt jumps, so lost in thought that he hasn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention to the gym.

“Yo, Matt, it’s ten to two,” Luke says softly. “I’m the last one here, I’m just leaving. You want help locking up?”

“Ten to...oh-” Matt nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Uh, no, no, it’s fine. You head off.” 

“You alright?” Luke asks. He smells warm and pleasant and it’s a welcome comfort to Matt’s slightly jarred mind. 

“Headache,” Matt says, standing up and feeling his way around the desk. He’s unfocused, he needs to get himself together, otherwise he really is as good as blind. “I’ll see you Tuesday, Luke. Thanks for letting me know. About the time and everything.”

“No problem,” Luke says with a gentle pat on Matt’s shoulder. “Take care, yeah?”

 

Matt moves around slowly, closing everything down, making his way outside and locking the door. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Frank is there with Rosa. He can smell the other man, and it clears his head, even brings a little smile to his lips, as though Frank is lifting the weight off of his shoulders. 

“Matty,” Frank says his name softly as he approaches, reaching out a hand to touch Matt’s arm when he’s turned away from the door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Matt breathes, leaning into Frank, briefly resting his head against his strong shoulder. That’s all he’ll allow himself in public, but they’re going back to Frank’s again. At least for lunch. He thinks Frank is frowning, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask any questions yet. He puts his hand on the small of Matt’s back, though, a slightly more protective position than their walk to work. 

It’s reassuring enough that Matt starts talking by the time they’re at the end of the street.

“Someone came looking for you today, on behalf of Wilson Fisk,” he says softly. “To offer you a contract at their gym.”

“Oh?” Frank’s voice, in contrast, is heavy. “Did they say anything- anything more?”

“No, she wanted to talk to you personally. Frank?”

“Matty?”

“I won’t be offended, you know that, don’t you? It’s fine, it’s your job. I just worry what they’ll put you through. I- you know? I worry they’ll… I know it’s your job-”

Frank makes a little noise of acknowledgement. 

“But I know that I can’t pay you as much as they do. For fights. And they wouldn’t be as high profile. So obviously it’s a good move for you.”

“I suppose so,” Frank agrees. 

“But-but they’re still going to do everything they can to find out how to defeat you. And I’m worried about what they’ll do when someone finally beats you. Not even considering how they might beat you. What if they kill you? Or really, really hurt you? But then you lose the draw of being undefeated, and-”

“Matty?” Frank pulls him to a stop, and Matt isn’t sure where they are, how far from home they might be. A big hand moves up to cup the back of his neck and it’s oddly calming, despite being able to feel the strength behind that touch. Now they’ve stopped Matt notices how incredibly hot it is outside. Sweat is clinging to the back of his shirt and running down his temples. “Shh,” Frank guides him into his body gently, their cheeks pressed together. Matt feels the scratch of Frank’s stubble. “Don’t think about it. Don’t worry about it. Let it all go.”

Matt grumbles a noise. He can’t shift it. The weight is back, doubled, and the heat isn’t helping. Perhaps the slow, steady beat of Frank’s heart is helping, and the quiet doggy panting of Rosa sitting patiently at their heels. But he’s still too tense. 

“Come on, we’re nearly home,” Frank says gently.

A little of the weight, a tiny bit of it falls away when Matt realises they’ve both referred to the same place as home in the last few minutes. 

 

The cool air meets them when Frank opens the front door, unclipping Rosa’s leash and letting her run off to her drinking bowl. His hand is still on the back of Matt’s neck, leading him gently inside.

“Shower, change, then I’ll make us lunch,” Frank says. He seems remarkably calm about the fact that Matt is bordering on a panic attack over Frank’s career, a sentence which sounds stupider and stupider the more Matt thinks about it. They’ve known each other less than a week. Matt is clearly losing his mind.

Frank supplies him with everything he needs to shower, guides his hands over the dial in the shower and promises to score a little mark on the good temperature so that Matt can feel it next time. 

Frank’s gentleness, his kindness, his absolute consideration for Matt’s needs leaves an aching void in Matt’s chest. The thought of- it’s been thirty two years, and Matt knows he’s never going to find anyone like this man again. A handful of days and he already knows he’ll never feel like this about another human. He can’t stop Frank, Frank needs to work. Frank could be killed in the ring. He could be killed out of it. Stolen from Matt the way his father was. Fisk will bait and bait, he’ll milk Frank for all he’s worth. He’ll let anyone have a go for the right price. 

The water isn’t helping, especially not now that Matt seems to have dug his way down to the root of the problem. He backs himself up against the cool wall of the shower and tries to hear Frank over the sound of the spray, but it’s difficult, bordering on impossible. 

“Frank-” he whimpers. “Frank. Frank. Frank-” The name increases in volume each time, panic stealing over him as it echoes back off of the tiled walls and the water splashing down blinds him to anything-

A body presses up against his own, strong arms wind around his waist and shoulders, pulling him up against clinging fabric heavy with water. 

“I’m here, I’m here, Matty. Shh, I’m here.” Frank coos gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay, I’m here.”

Matt’s fingers wind in Frank’s sopping vest, gulping in breaths against the wet skin of the other man’s shoulder. Frank is blocking the water from hitting Matt, shielding him with his fully clothed body. 

Pressing his face into the crook of Frank’s neck, Matt breathes in again. He feels the flutter of Frank’s pulse, smells his scent, let’s the rumble of his voice soothe him. He needs more than that. He’s never ever been a needy man, much less a needy partner, but that’s where they stand right now. 

“Kiss me,” he rasps, aware that maybe he was calling for Frank louder than he thought or remembered, his throat hurts a little. “Frank?”

“Okay, I’m here,” Frank assures him, cupping Matt’s face gently, keeping his solid presence against Matt’s, though the wet denim of Frank’s shorts are a little uncomfortable. He leans in and they kiss slowly, lips parted, tongues meeting. Matt hums at the satisfaction of it, working his hands under Frank’s vest to run up his broad back. He’s going to owe Frank an explanation soon, but not right now. The kisses deepen, get a little more heated, and Matt can once again feel the gentle pulse of Frank’s cock, even through the layers of his clothing.

Frank hiccoughs slightly and pulls back, forcing Matt to chase him with his mouth, but to no avail. His hips have canted away, too, and Matt has gone from too hot to too cold too quickly. 

“Frank?”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m getting carried away,” Frank apologises, his voice heavy with want. 

“No,” Matt whimpers. “Come here. Come back here.”

He reaches out a hand and presses it to Frank’s chest, slides it underneath his now skin-tight vest, touches the solid muscles of his stomach. Frank’s pulse is quicker, the happy kind of quicker it had been then they’d been in bed. 

“Really?” Frank asks, his tone now carrying a slight pleading note. But he’s a gentleman, he won’t touch Matt unless Matt assures him this isn’t need driven by insanity. Which it may well be, but it doesn’t mean Matt wants him any less.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, come back here.”

He’s gratified when Frank peels the soaked vest from his body, dropping it messily on the floor, then starts on his jeans. They and his underwear join the wet bundle on the tiles and Frank is back in Matt’s space, pressing him up against the wall and kissing him. 

Matt’s fingers slide down Frank’s skin, mapping him, following the rivulets of water over muscles and scars. He reaches Frank’s backside and cups it roughly, dragging him forwards so that their lower bodies meet. Their gasps echo each other as their erections press between them, lips dancing over each other as their hips begin a gentle grind, enough friction to tease, to send sparks through each of them, but not enough to get off. 

Matt needs that. He needs Frank. He needs that release. He needs Frank to get him there, to calm his mind. 

“Touch-” he pleads, gripping Frank’s forearm, tugging to guide it where he wants, between their bodies, between his legs. 

Frank’s hand wraps around them both, twisting, stroking, drawing more echoed sounds from each of them, soft, pleased moans. Frank’s other hand holds Matt’s hip, but it’s not forceful, it’s just there. Matt’s fingers move up and down Frank’s chest and neck, petting his lover as they pant against each other’s mouths. It’s only a few moments before Frank abandons his own pleasure in favour of Matt’s, his hand easily stroking up and down Matt’s wet, slick cock, but that won’t do. As amazing as it feels, Matt needs the sounds Frank makes to make this satisfying. He lets his hand drop from Frank’s chest, wrapping his fingers around him instead, mirroring the strokes that move up and down his own shaft. 

“Christ, Matty-” Frank sighs, beautiful in the combined sound of the water and the waves of heat and desire washing off of him. Frank in technicolour. 

Matt tries to hum, but it sounds far more like a moan. He doesn’t care, their hands are speeding up, warmth is curling in his stomach. Their lips are still barely touching, hovering over each other so that their whimpers and gasps and stuttered pleas aren’t blocked. Frank growls gently, and Matt is suddenly on the edge. He quickens the pace of his own hand, knowing it will draw more sweet noises from Frank, and he is immediately rewarded with a gasp, a little whine that melts into a whimper, the need building rapidly between his legs before he comes with a gentle moan, hips canting up to Frank’s hand, which is now stroking rather erratically, drawing out the pleasure to almost unbearable levels. His own is doing the same, unable to keep a steady pace, all of his muscles weak and slack. Frank’s fingers ease his away, resuming their pace, jerking himself roughly until he pants Matt’s name and coats his stomach in heat.

Their arms wrap carefully around each other, and Frank somehow manages to direct them under the spray to rinse off. His lips move over Matt’s jaw, down his neck, his hands touching with a reverence that makes Matt want to cry. Maybe he tenses, maybe Frank can feel the skip in his heartbeat and worries that Matt isn’t over the fear that consumed him, but Frank’s mouth reaches his ear and he breathes softly against the damp skin. 

“I got you, Matty,” the hands don’t still. If anything they grip a little tighter. “I ain’t letting you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if the characterisation slipped a little at the end. I spent all of yesterday alternating between writing this and reading alpha/omega fics so you know...
> 
> I'm also on tumblr now @ itsalwayshighnoonsomewhere
> 
> You know what to do.


	5. Final Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt has a lot of thoughts.
> 
> Frank has a few ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. I'm sorry there's been a long time in between chapters. But thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and commenting, thank you to everyone for everything. I'm so thankful. I hope you enjoy the concluding part.

Matt wakes up under the heavy weight of Frank’s arm over his chest, and he can hear him breathing steadily and deeply beside him, still sleeping. Frank’s cock is pressing against his thigh, and that’s just as comforting as Frank holding him. There’s something sexy about the way Frank is hard in his sleep, hard because he’s pressed against Matt, because Matt is next to him. It’s nice. 

 

His own cock is filling up slowly, though Matt is content to lay where he is for now and enjoy the buzz of his arousal and the warmth of the body beside him. It must still be early; he can’t hear Rosa moving around yet, waiting for her daddy to wake up. 

 

Frank shifts, pushing himself against Matt, letting out a little grunt of pleasure at the friction. Matt smiles and wriggles just slightly, listening to the happy whimpers he teases from the other man. He loves the noises Frank makes. So soft for someone so strong. 

 

“Do you want me, Frank?” Matt whispers, smirking as Frank mumbles again, inching closer. He nuzzles against Matt’s neck and mouths against his jaw. It probably shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but Matt can’t help but like the attention. And he shouldn’t be teasing him, he should let his lover sleep. “Frank? You’re hard.”

 

Frank whines softly and is suddenly crawling over Matt, their lips meeting in a messy kiss. “You’re impossible,” Frank murmurs, biting on Matt’s lower lip gently. “I love waking up with you.” 

 

Matt chuckles at the rapid changes in Frank’s sentiments, running his fingers up the other man’s back and into his hair. “I can tell,” he murmurs, arching a little, pushing gently against Frank’s heavy cock. 

 

Frank rumbles happily. “I never had this problem before you started sleeping in my bed,” he smirks, rolling his hips slowly. “You thinkin’ of doing anything about it?”

 

“I was hoping to,” Matt whispers. “I’m a generous man. I was thinking of riding you.”

 

There’s a puff of warmth as Frank breathes out a little laugh against his cheek. “Generous.”

 

His mouth begins to move over Matt’s jaw in hot, heavy kisses, working down to his neck. His stubble scratches  Matt’s over sensitive skin and covers him in goosebumps. 

 

“Undress me,” Matt whispers, arching his back again, baring more of this throat to Frank.

 

“You’re so demanding,” Frank purrs, his large hands moving under Matt’s tshirt and sliding it up. “You love it, don’t you?” he continues, pushing the garment up and over Matt’s head, discarding it over the side of the bed. “You love knowing you have me wrapped around your fingers. That I’d do anything for you. Or to you You just say the words-”

 

Matt shivers. “I don’t think that’s true.” 

 

“Oh, Matty,” Frank sighs, licking a hot stripe up Matt’s naked chest before moving over to suck on one of his nipples. Matt mewls, his grip tightening in Frank’s hair. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” 

 

Matt’s cock is solid and hot now, every brush of Frank’s tongue sending another shiver through him, everything pooling between his legs. 

 

Frank kisses over to the other nipple, nuzzling Matt’s chest, sucking softly on the hard little bud. The nuzzling makes Matt melt. Everything is so gentle but so sexy at the same time. He pulls at Frank’s tshirt, dragging it up his back to get it off, to get at Frank’s skin. And all those muscles. Matt is certain that he’s never going to get tired of Frank’s body. Ever. The weight on top of him is hot, too, the way he’s being pressed into the bed, how Frank is basically holding him down-

 

But Matt knows that Frank is right; if he told Frank now to roll over and spread his legs, Frank would. If he told him to jerk Matt off slowly, Frank would. If Matt told him then to go and make him breakfast without getting off himself, he knows Frank would do it without complaint.

 

But Matt  _ is _ going to ride him, and they’re both going to leave this room satisfied. 

 

He’s still squirming beneath the other man, painfully turned on by the attention to his nipples, rolling his lower body gently so that both of them get the friction against their cocks. His fingers run up and down Frank’s back, mapping the motion of his muscles for a few moments before they move to the waistband of his own boxers, inching them down and freeing his erection which presses hot and insistent against Frank’s belly. Frank groans, the vibration tingling through Matt from his nipple, making him rut against the hard muscles of Frank’s stomach. 

 

“Jesus, Matty,” Frank purrs softly, lifting his head to look at Matt. Matt knows his cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess, and he must look pretty good because he feels the throb of Frank’s dick against his thigh. “You gonna ride me?” Frank asks, lifting his body up so that he can lower his underwear, kicking them off the end of the bed. “You wanna feel me inside you?”

 

“You know I do-” Matt hasn’t felt that yet, and God he wants to. He wants to feel Frank stretch him open and rock into him. He wants to- fuck it, why is he thinking this? He can just do it. 

 

Matt pushes on one of Frank’s arms gently, and Frank obligingly rolls them over so that Matt is straddling his thighs. Beneath him his lover glows, warm and happy and aroused. The heat from his cock draws Matt’s attention, and he lets his hands drift down, circling his fingers around the thick shaft. Frank makes a little choked whimpering sound, hips bucking into the touch. 

 

“You know, Frank,” Matt starts, stroking slowly. “You make the prettiest noises.” 

 

“Oh-” Frank breathes. “Oh.” 

 

“Pass me the lube.”

 

He listens to Frank fumble the drawer open, hears him reach inside and rummage. Lube and a condom. Matt’s fingers reach out and he finds the bottle, opening it and squeezing some out. 

He kneels up and reaches around, stroking slowly over his entrance. 

 

“Are you watching  me?”

 

“Of course I’m watching you,” Frank growls softly beneath him. 

 

“Did you want to do this?” Matt asks, his hips canting forward as he slips a finger into himself. 

 

“I’m enjoying the view,” Frank replies, his hands stroking up and down Matt’s thighs. “Could jerk off watching you do this-”

 

“Nope. You’re fucking me,” Matt tuts playfully, pushing another finger into himself, stretching, pushing as deep as he can. “You’ll enjoy that more.”

 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, Matty.” He can hear the smirk in Frank’s voice, the scent of arousal curling stronger and stronger around them. 

 

He settles on two fingers because he’s growing impatient, and because he wants to feel Frank open him up. He reaches for the condom, ripping it open and taking Frank’s cock in his hand again, feeling the other man tremble at the slight friction when he drags the rubber down. Their hearts are pounding quickly; arousal and anticipation, and maybe nerves. It’s the first time they’ve gone this way round. 

 

Matt inches forwards, and Frank seems more than willing to assist, his hands sliding up to Matt’s arse, grabbing each cheek and opening him up so that the head of his dick easily finds the his entrance, rubbing teasingly against the rim for a second before he finally penetrates.

 

Both of them groan. Frank’s grip tightens on Matt’s backside and Matt swallows, draws in a deep breath, relaxes, then sinks down more.  And God, yes, Frank stretches him. He’s wonderfully big, but it’s still been awhile since anyone was inside him. Next time he’ll go harder and faster. Next time- He shifts again, inches down some more, moans happily when Frank holds on even tighter. 

 

“You’re gonna leave marks,” Matt says quietly. It’s a statement, not a complaint. He can live with feeling Frank all over him day and night, warm reminders of his lover when he’s at work. 

 

“I’ll do better next time,” Frank rasps out, hips twitching as he tries to not push up, tries to not fuck Matt yet. “Cover more of you.” 

 

“Or just spank me-” Matt chuckles, crying out when Frank does exactly that, drawing back a hand and slapping one of Matt’s cheeks. He jerks slightly, relaxes, sinks down again until Frank is completely filling him, buried inside him. 

 

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Frank breathes, back to groping Matt, his hands moving, stroking, petting. He glows, he’s so beautiful, Matt could stare at him all day, spread out beneath him. That or he could make him glow more, could make him hotter, could make Frank writhe and moan. 

 

Matt lifts himself up slightly and drops down, spreading his legs more, leaning back a little, trying again. Two more rocks of his hips, two more times sinking down on Frank’s cock and he hits his prostate, letting out a long, low moan of pleasure. Frank echoes it, trembling as he tries to stay still and let Matt take the lead. Matt rolls his body, shallow movements that keep Frank right where he wants him, sparks flying through his veins as he nails the right angle over and over again. Frank is rumbling with pleasure beneath him, panting softly as Matt leads them.

 

“Touch me,” Matt orders, and Frank doesn’t even hesitate, wrapping his hand around Matt’s cock. His fingers are the right rough side of calloused, and he seems to know exactly what it is that Matt wants and needs, exactly how to stroke and touch from second to second. He wishes he’d held off on that command, because he’s going to come a lot faster than he wants to. 

 

“Oh God-” he gasps, feeling his cock twitch and precome dribble from the tip, his hips jerking as Frank’s thumb brushes over it and wipes it away. “Oh, God. Frank. Frank. Frank-”

 

“Yeah, Matty- you there? You close?” Frank growls softly. “You gonna come for me?”

 

“I’m close, I’m so close-” Matt whimpers, hips stuttering, and though he loses the right angle, the sporadic rubs against his prostate are drawing his orgasm on even quicker. 

 

“Come on, baby. I wanna hear you,” Frank whispers to him, one hand still stroking up and down, the other splaying against Matt’s hips, against his belly. “Come on. Come for me.”

 

Matt’s orgasm hits him hard, slams through him, and he cries out, screams Frank’s name. Everything whites out, it’s blissful, and he doesn’t think anything has ever felt this good. 

 

He continues to move, to press against Frank’s hand and down again on his dick until he can’t move, until his muscles are too liquid to help him anymore.

 

Frank is still hard, his pulse is still throbbing through him inside the tight grip of Matt’s body, and Matt feels bad for racing ahead. But he’s barely stilled before Frank has flipped him over, pressing him into the bed again, making him groan at the change of angle and the rough press against his over sensitive prostate.

 

“I need to-” Frank starts, slipping out of Matt’s body and making the other man whimper at the loss. Matt hears the condom being pulled off, hears it discarded, and then Frank is pushing against him again, rubbing his cock against the crease between his hipbone and belly. Matt groans softly, feeling the wet streak of precome Frank is leaving on his skin. He’s already sticky, his chest and stomach covered in his own come, but Frank seems to want to add his own to that. “I’m gonna come on you-” he rasps, confirming Matt’s thoughts. “Your belly. I fucking love it.” Frank all but growls the words, rocking his hips, dragging his cock over Matt’s skin.

 

It’s hotter than anything Matt could ever have imagined. Sexy in the strangest of ways, because Matt has never had anyone lust after a part of his body, chosen not to just fuck him but opted for something else because they’re attracted to  _ him _ . 

 

Frank is braced above Matt, caging his head in with his strong forearms, his head angled so that he can look down between their bodies at where he’s thrusting himself against Matt, watching his cock press into the slightly softer skin of Matt’s belly. 

 

“Matty, Matty, fuck-” Frank begins to moan, pistoning his hips, breathing raggedly against Matt’s neck. “Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good. This feels so good. I wanna come on you-”

 

Matt’s own cock twitches slightly, enjoying the attention and wishing again that he hadn’t come so soon. Next time, though- oh, next time. 

 

“I’m close, I’m close, baby- fuck. Oh fuck-” 

 

Frank’s weight shifts and Matt reaches for him, wanting to touch him if he’s so determined to put space between them. His fingers find one of Frank’s arms, the one he’s bracing himself on, stroking up the taunt muscles. Frank’s other arm is working furiously, jerking himself off. The sound is obscene, and again Matt’s cock twitches. Frank glows even brighter, his cock illuminated in his fist as he strokes it. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, Matty, yeah. Oh God. I’m there- oh fuck,” Frank groans so beautifully, and Matt feels the hot splash of come on his stomach. “Oh God, Matty-”

 

He’s covered in both of them now, but Matt feels so sexy. His heart is pounding, arousal still tingling through him as Frank begins to come down. 

 

“Do I look good?” Matt asks, reaching down to dip his fingers into the mess on his stomach. “Is this what you wanted?”

 

“Christ, you look so good,” Frank growls, still sucking in hard breaths. He carefully slumps onto the bed beside Matt, touching his own fingers to Matt’s belly and the result of their orgasms. “I’m sorry if I-”

 

“Don’t. No need. You make me feel amazing,” Matt whispers. “I like that you like parts of me.”

 

“Oh, I like all of you.” He hears the grin in Frank’s voice. “And you are amazing. God-” Frank sinks back into the pillows and sighs, stretching, reaching out a hand to find Matt’s, lacing their fingers together. 

 

A moment later they both hear the soft whining sound coming from downstairs, and Rosa’s claws on the floor. She’s pacing at the bottom of the stairs, making soft noises to get her daddy’s attention. 

 

Frank grumbles. “Nngh, so much for the afterglow,” he murmurs, the bed dipping as he climbs off of it, picking up his boxers from where they’d been thrown. “I’ll feed the baby and get breakfast started. Take your time,” he adds, leaning down and pressing his lips to Matt’s, lingering for a moment before pulling away and finding his boxers, opening the bedroom door. 

 

“Hey, little girl. Daddy’s here. I know, I know, I missed you too-” 

 

Matt smiles, listening to Frank descend, listening to Rosa perk up and yip happily, her claws tapping on the floor again as she runs towards the kitchen, Frank humming as he follows.

 

He could get used to waking up like this. 

 

***

 

Matt picks out some clothes. Some clothes that may or may not belong to Frank. He has enough of his own here, but he likes that they’re too big for him, he likes the way the scent of Frank swallows him up. He feels a lot better today. Feels as though Frank is wrapped around him even when he’s on the other side of the room in the kitchen, making them breakfast. It’s probably going to be exuberant and filling and delicious. 

 

Rosa has eaten and has come to sit with Matt. He wonders if the mixture of Frank’s scent and Matt’s scent, the mixed smell all over both of them is confusing to her, or if she can understand the other layers that mingle in. He can hear her tail wagging on the floor, so clearly she isn’t upset about these changes, and in return his fingers rub gently over her head.

 

The swishing of her tail picks up as Frank heads back towards them, her excitement barely contained until she just can’t take it anymore, standing up and bouncing around Frank’s legs as he tries to take a seat beside Matt. 

 

“Sit. Sit, Rosa,” Frank commands gently, and Rosa obeys, her tail sweeping over the floor again. He places a bowl in Matt’s hands, edging himself a bit closer. 

 

“It’s just omelette. With sausage. I put it in a bowl so you didn’t have to worry about it running away from you.” Frank grins a little shyly, then places a knife and fork in Matt’s free hand. “It’s all mixed up good so you don’t have to worry about fishing around for things, either. I thought it would probably be- I dunno- I thought it would be easier.”

 

That, little things like that, attention to tiny details, are a reason Matt finds himself falling harder for Frank. Frank, who hasn’t asked any questions about what happened yesterday in the shower, who had just wrapped Matt up and gone to fetch him some dry clothes like the ones he’s wearing now to warm him up. Who hasn’t asked what triggered Matt, who hasn’t pushed. Matt supposes Frank has seen his share of panic, of PTSD, of people freaking out over nothing apparent, and he appreciates not being pressed into telling Frank about his fear. His stupid, over exaggerated, irrational fear of Frank dying. 

 

“Do you want to come for a walk after breakfast? We usually go on a pretty long morning walk-” Frank asks, breaking the comfortable silence. “You’re more than welcome to stay here if you’d prefer.”

 

“No, no, I’ll come,” Matt nods. He’s here to spend time with Frank, he’s not going to waste however long just sitting here on his own. He wants to be with him as much as possible. He wants to feel like they’re a normal couple, even if they haven’t really put any labels on this yet. 

 

“Cool. I’ll do us a salad for lunch, maybe steak for dinner? We can watch a movie or something, I’ll try my hand at audio description.”

 

“We can put one something I’ve already seen and I can just listen,” Matt suggests. Frank is probably not used to having to plan things out like this, he’s not used to having to accommodate someone else in his life, or plan ahead. But it’s another thing he’s doing for Matt. Why Matt is the exception he doesn’t know, and he isn’t going to question it. 

 

“Can I buy audio description movies for you?” Frank asks after swallowing a mouthful of his breakfast. 

 

“Most films have it included. If you can find it on the DVD menu. Which, uh, y’know- I might need your help with,” he grins, because it’s a great idea in theory, but a blind person can’t always navigate a DVD menu. 

 

“Oh,” Frank sounds surprised. And pleased. “I’ll look later. See what we can watch together.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Matt shrugs his shoulders. “I just like being with you.”

 

He’s sure he can hear the smile on Frank’s lips, hear how pleased he is with that sentiment.

 

“Well, I want us to be able to do things together,” Frank replies.

 

“Oh, I’m sure we can find lots to do together,” Matt adds, sounding a lot more suggestive than he intends to.

 

Frank’s breathing and pulse both fluctuate for a second, and Matt knows he’s thinking the same thing. Their sex has been very good. And they’ve barely scratched the surface. 

 

“You’re blushing,” Frank comments gently. 

 

“Are you?” Matt asks, lifting his hand and pressing it to Frank’s warm cheek. 

 

“Matty-” Frank huffs out a little laugh. “You do all these things to me-”

 

“What do you want me to do to you?” Matt asks, sliding his fingers up to Frank’s hair, pushing them through the short strands.

 

“Everything,” Frank admits, leaning into the touch. “I want you to do everything to me.”

 

Matt knows for a fact he’s never heard anything as seductive as that in his whole life. 

 

They’ve really only just had sex. They’ve both only just showered and dressed and Matt is still holding a bowl of breakfast, but all of him is thrumming with want, with the energy between them. He’s never felt anything like this with anyone. He smiles and lets his hand drop again. 

 

“Do you want to stay the rest of the weekend? Until you have to go back to work?” Frank asks after another pause in which they both eat. The omelette is delicious. Matt’s very lucky. This man seems to be able to do everything. 

 

He turns his head towards Frank, noting another kind of nervousness about him, as though he really thinks Matt will say no. 

 

“If I’m not going to be in the way,” Matt starts, getting a little huff of laughter from the other man. 

 

“I wouldn’t ask if it was going to be a problem,” Frank says. The rest of today and all of tomorrow in Frank’s company? Two more nights in his bed? “Unless it’s too soon for you?”

 

“No. No, this is what I want,” Matt jumps in quickly. “You. This- I like this. And us.” Matt stumbles over the words, hoping he isn’t saying too much too soon. 

 

“Well good. Because that’s exactly what I want,” Frank replies with enviable calmness. 

 

Matt listens to him eating for a few moments, breathing in, putting all of his fear in a little box for now and enjoying his breakfast again. 

 

***

 

“I’ve been thinking about my future,” Frank says when the bowls are put away and he’s handed Matt his shoes, Rosa prancing around them both because she knows it’s time for walkies. “And- the more I think about it, the more I see you as a big part of it. If that’s too much too soon-” Frank breaks off, and Matt listens to the increase in Frank’s heartbeat, knows that he’s genuinely nervous, even if he’s trying to play it cool, hooking Rosa’s leash onto her collar, picking up his key-.

 

“I feel as though I’ve been waiting my whole life for you,” Matt replies gently. “Which… that makes it sound as though I’m a lot older than I am,” he chuckles, “but I still feel as though- I feel as though-”

 

Frank’s hand is soft and gentle as it cups the side of his face, and he leans in towards the kiss he knows is coming. He’s expecting it to be as soft as the touch is, but Frank kisses almost needily. As though he doesn’t think he can breathe without Matt.

 

Not that Matt is complaining at all, as he leans into the kiss and Frank’s body. Strong, wonderful Frank. Frank, who is kissing Matt, holding him, asking for a future with him-

 

They pull back and even then Matt can hear Frank smiling. “Come on. Walkies.”

 

The morning is warm, pleasantly so, and Frank holds Matt’s hand, gripping Rosa’s leash in the other. He isn’t bothered about people seeing them like this, isn’t bothered about comments that might be thrown at them. It’s normal. It feels so normal to be doing this, to be walking with Frank and Rosa. He doesn’t walk a lot on his own, he doesn’t go out a lot on his own, just to work, maybe somewhere with Foggy, but never anything simple and relaxing like this. It’s easy. It’s easy to fall into this life and fall in love with Frank and, shit, it’s easy to be happy. He doesn’t want to lose it or let it go because despite what he’s said, despite thirty-two not being old at all, Matt doesn’t think he’ll ever find this kind of happiness again. 

 

“You’re thinking a lot,” Frank murmurs softly. “I can hear you.”

 

“No you can’t,” Matt huffs, ashamed that he’s let his thoughts slip, let it cloud him. 

 

“Hm,” Frank rumbles, his smile audible. “Tell me.”

 

Matt takes in a breath. It tastes of the summer air. Cut grass, water, food, sunscreen. “I can’t believe you like me,” he says, feeling like a teenager, like being back in highschool. “You’re this big, sexy boxer, and I’m a scrawny blind guy and- and I don’t know what you see in me. Why you- you’ve done so much for me. You’re so thoughtful, like you’re constantly wanting to make my life a bit easier whilst I’m with you and-”

 

“Matty,” Frank cuts him off gently. “You can’t see me to know I’m sexy. And you can’t see you to know you’re not,” he teases. 

 

“But-”

 

“Wait, please. When I first saw you, when I first walked into the gym, I wanted you. Right then. I thought you were gorgeous before I saw your eyes, before you teased me with your body, before we’d spoken properly. Or at all.” Frank’s voice is so deep and lovely, so warm. “And I know it’s weird, I was worried how you’d feel when you found out all the things I’d been looking into to- yeah, to make your life easier. Whilst you’re with me. I know it was premature to know how to make things easier if you ever came over to mine, cos shit, I didn’t know anything about you to start- and I guess it’s a bit weird to ask the Internet how to make a blind guy feel at home before I’d even had like, a friendly conversation with you. But I had to. I had to be prepared because I wanted you. I want you. And if you wanna be with me then I want your life to be as easy as I can possibly make it, cos why wouldn’t I?”

 

“I want you, too,” Matt breathes. “I’m just- I’m so worried about losing you, Frank.” 

 

He feels the slight change in the grip on his hand, almost hears Frank’s eyebrows raise. “What do you mean?”

 

“Not- I don’t mean to another gym. I don’t care about where you train or your name or your patronage. I’m sure our relationship can survive you punching someone else’s bags,” Matt takes a breath, willing himself to steer clear of another panic attack, otherwise he’ll have to become a recluse for the rest of his life. “I’m scared of them putting you in a situation that you can’t survive. I’m scared that there are people out there who can’t stand that you’re undefeated, and each time they’re going to try harder and harder to beat you however they can-” he draws in another breath. 

 

“I lost my dad- I lost my dad cos he took a bad knock to the head that- we thought he was okay, but then he suddenly just- he just died. Aneurism. And- you know, he was a good fighter. The punch that took him out wasn’t even odd, or illegal. It just happened. And I know it happens, I know, but people-” Matt swallows, wiping his forehead where sweat is beading too quickly for the early morning temperature. “People want to see you defeated.” 

 

Frank has slowed their pace, still holding Matt’s hand, but walking slower so that he can listen. His heart is beating steadily. Matt closes his eyes, even though it makes no difference, but it helps him focus. He can feel the gentle stroke of Frank’s thumb over his knuckles, can hear Rosa snuffling at everything they pass. Calm. 

 

“Then I won’t be defeated,” Frank says simply, as though it’s that easy. Matt huffs out a noise, a little frustrated that Frank isn’t taking him seriously.

 

“Frank-”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Matty. I promise-”

 

“You can’t promise me something like that,” Matt snaps, turning his head and opening his eyes (for all the difference it makes) so that he can glare at Frank. 

 

Frank’s pulse stays the same though, steady and calm, whilst Matt is infuriated. 

 

“You’re real cute when you’re frustrated,” Frank smiles. Then he rapidly adds- “Sorry. I’m sorry. That- that was a dickish thing to say.”

 

“Well, you’re being a dick,” Matt snaps.

 

“Just- please, trust that I’ll take care of this. We want a future with each other and I’ll make it happen.”

 

Matt frowns and huffs again when Frank pulls them to a stop and kisses the corner of his nose. 

 

“You’re going to do something dumb, aren’t you?” Matt grouses, shoving feebly at Frank’s chest.

 

“Shut up and kiss me,” Frank smirks, leaning in again. 

 

Matt doesn’t protest. He trusts Frank. A lot. And Frank is a great kisser. And he won’t let Matt down. 

 

***

 

Matt has never not found it easy to settle into the rhythm of the gym, the noises of the men working out, the constant thumps of their overlying heartbeats calming like bubbling water.

 

He sits at the front desk, listening, his fingers moving over a page he isn’t reading. Not really. 

 

He’s listening to Frank working out. He’s supposes it’s a little strange that he can pick out one steady heartbeat in a room full of them, but their peaceful weekend has only familiarised him with that specific pulse. 

 

Frank arrived a little earlier than he usually does, so Foggy is still here, working or ‘working’. Just because he’s blind, Matt still notices when Foggy is slacking. But it isn’t as though Matt is doing anything productive either. 

 

Both of them stiffen when the doors of the gym open; Foggy because of the vision that is probably standing in the doorway, and Matt because he smells the perfume, familiar and unwelcome. 

 

None of the men whistle the way they do when Karen walks in. Because they know who this woman works for. 

 

Matt lets his fingers still on the book he isn’t reading, listening as heels clip closer and the perfume swamps the air around him. Matt attempts to keep a straight face.

 

“Mr. Murdock,” she smiles, fake and as cloying as her smell. She holds her hand out towards him, purposefully not holding it out far enough. “We met the other day. Kath Parker.”

 

Matt isn’t in the mood to be toyed with, though, and reaches directly for her hand and shakes it firmly. He hears Foggy smother a laugh. 

 

“Good to see you again,” Kath says sweetly.

 

“I wish I could say the same,” Matt replies with a tight smile. “This is my associate, Franklin Nelson.”

 

“Is Frank Castle in today?” she asks, much to Matt’s chagrin, because she obviously knows what Frank looks like, and it isn’t a big gym. 

 

“I don’t know, ma’am, can you see him?” Matt asks, his impatience telling in his voice. He feels calmer than he thought he would though, for the moment at least. 

 

Kath’s pulse flickers in irritation for a moment, and then she turns away, obviously searching for Frank, who won’t be hard to find.

 

“Mr. Castle,” her voice is sickening, even at a few paces away where she’s obviously located Frank. “I’ve come on behalf of Mr. Fisk and his gym. Perhaps you’d be willing to come and speak with me in private?”

 

Frank’s heartbeat is steady and grows slightly louder as he approaches, coming to a stop a couple of feet away from the desk Matt and Foggy are sat behind. Matt takes in a deep breath, drinks in his scent and again feels slightly better. He tries to imagine the expression on Frank’s face, hopes it’s disdain rather than interest- but he can’t see, and Frank still hasn’t said anything…

 

“I’m fine here, whatever it is you wanna ask,” Frank says finally, his voice slipping into something slightly more colloquial, rather than the very articulate tone he uses when they’re alone.

 

“It’s actually a rather delicate and financial matter,” Kath reiterates. 

 

Frank doesn’t respond for a moment. There’s nothing subtle about the gradually stuttering movements around the gym as men slow down to listen. 

 

“Fine, well I guess we can go lean against Mr. Murdock’s desk,” he says finally, moving closer again.

 

Beside Matt, Foggy feels alarmed, as though Frank might suddenly turn on them, as though this is all an elaborate ruse to move closer to the safety of their desk and reap havoc.

 

Matt curbs a smile.

 

“Of course,” comes an almost clipped reply, accompanied by the sound of returning heals. “Mr. Murdock and I have already had a discussion regarding your contract here. Mr. Fisk is willing to compensate Mr. Murdock in full for losing you as a client, with additional compensation for any losses he may have incurred from your time here.”

 

“And why’s Mr. Murdock losing me as a client?” Frank asks. “I don’t think I’ve caused him any trouble in the entire week I’ve been here-”

 

“Mr. Fisk is offering you a substantial and beneficial contract to train with him and fight at his gym.” Kath’s tone softens as though Frank is an idiot who has taken way too many blows to the head.

 

Matt is trying to not be distracted by the heavier smell of Frank’s sweat now that he’s nearer. But he also  _ wants _ to focus on Frank so that he doesn’t lose his mind.

 

“Right-” Frank says slowly. “But this gym as all the equipment I need. And it’s closer to my home.”

 

“Mr. Castle-” Kath’s patience seems to be wearing slightly. Matt desperately wants to see how much she can take. “What Mr. Fisk is offering far exceeds what you can possibly hope for here. He is  _ renowned _ . And you are undefeated. You’ll be bringing in six figures per fight. At least. You’ll have the best promotion, best support and medical treatment. You’ll want for nothing under Mr. Fisk, and you deserve the very best.”

 

Matt has felt himself slowly sinking beneath the haze of her words. He can’t raise the hype for fights as much as Fisk can. He can’t line up names or accommodate the spectators. He can’t offer Frank anything he can’t get elsewhere. And maybe, if he’s willing to think selfishly, maybe  _ he’ll  _ benefit from it too. If he and Frank stay together. But how long will he have to enjoy that life with Frank before Frank is taken from him? He can’t stand it. He can’t stand the thought of Frank fighting, but that is Frank’s job. It’s what he’s been doing for years, and he’s obviously good at it. How can Matt ask him to give that up?

 

“I’m retired,” Frank announces quietly, calm but firm so that the statement rings clearly around the gym, not that he’d need to raise his voice much, most of the clients are listening. 

 

He waits patiently in the silence that follows, well aware of the impact his words will have. 

 

Matt is gaping, but he’s also hanging on whatever Frank might be about to say next. But Frank keeps them waiting. His heartbeat is steady. Matt wants to know- he wants to know who Frank is looking at, what his expression is;  from the stuttering of Kath’s pulse he’s looking at her. 

 

“Mr. Castle,” he voice is strained. “I don’t think- I don’t- I don’t think you understand the money you’re being offered. And the privileges.” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Frank says softly. “But I’m retired, so it doesn’t matter so much.”

 

The silence still feels almost absolute.

 

“I don’t think- have you really considered these options? The contract that Mr. Fisk is offering-”

 

“That would defeat the purpose of being retired,” Frank replies patiently. 

 

“Give it a year under Mr. Fisk and you’ll have enough money to retire, and you’ll never have to worry about money again.”

 

“Ma’am,  I don’t need to worry about money anyway,” Frank says with a cockiness that Matt has never heard, but finds incredibly sexy. 

 

“I can’t go back to Mr. Fisk and tell him that you’ve retired-” Kath sounds panicked now, and if this were any other circumstance, and if he weren’t already saturated with the simplicity of Frank’s statement and the relief now washing through him, Matt might feel sorry for her.

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ma’am. Would you like it in writing? Perhaps Mr. Fisk would be happier with that?”Frank’s voice is gentle and sincere. He obviously knows how much is riding on him signing up with Fisk, even if it isn’t spelt out. He’s been in this game long enough to know who the big shots are all over the state. And he knows what a prize he is. “I suppose I’ll make an official announcement. I was hoping to be left alone but-” Frank shrugs, and Matt jumps a second later when gentle fingers touch the back of his hand. “Matty, can I borrow some paper and a pen?” he asks softly.

 

Matt knows where everything on his desk is without thought, but this time he fumbles, still overwhelmed by this sudden news.

 

“You know, it would be expected of you to do one more fight,” Kath presses, still desperate for something. “To go out with a bang. Mr. Fisk can arrange something worthy of someone of your talents. A fitting send off for the undefeated Punisher.”

 

Matt swallows again, his heart rate picking up once more. That is usually the way. Actually, it is the only way for all he knows. A testimonial fight to mark the retirement. And of course it’s usually fixed so the retiring fighter wins, but that wouldn’t be guaranteed. Frank has worked so hard for years, slipping out of his career without ceremony seems almost insulting to his skill. 

 

The scratch of Frank’s pen on the paper doesn’t falter, though. 

 

“I’m not one for ceremony,” he replies gently. “I had enough of that in the Marines.” The scratching reaches a rapid crescendo as Frank signs his name, then hands the paper across to Matt and Foggy.

 

“Could you photocopy this for me, please?” he asks, and even with all that gentleness in his voice, Foggy seems to momentarily tense up. But he takes the paper and scuttles into the office. 

 

“Please thank Mr. Fisk for what was probably a real generous offer, but I don’t fight anymore. I’m staying here, at Mr. Murdock’s gym. Maybe I’ll start training kids or something-” Frank resumes speaking to Kath. He sounds sincerely apologetic. Matt’s absolutely gone for him. He’s so gentle, so polite.

 

“Mr. Fisk can accommodate you-” Kath latches onto the idea with ferocity. “I’m sure he’d come up with a great deal-”

 

“And I’ll refuse it as I refused this one,” Frank says, his patience seemingly waning slightly. “I have no intention of going anywhere else.”

 

Foggy returns and hands Frank an excessive wad of photocopies. Frank thanks him and resumes his position.

 

“Take the original to Mr. Fisk with my apologies. Please reiterate to him that there isn’t anything, no clause or benefit, that will change my mind, so he shouldn’t waste your time sending you back out here. I’m staying with Mr. Murdock for as long as he’ll have me, and that’s my final word.”

 

It takes a lot of effort for Matt to not simply swoon at that. It’s a big statement, professional and personal, but there isn’t time to linger on that yet.

 

“I see-” the words come out after a pause, as though Kath has run through every possibility she could try to use to persuade him. Matt tries to keep his face impassive. Beside him Foggy as settled back down and is watching the exchange as though he’s forgotten of his conviction that Frank is going to punch them to death. 

 

Frank’s heart is still beating, calm and steady. He’s completely in control of himself. Matt imagines that’s what his pulse sounds like before a fight. Focussed and unwavering.

 

“If that’s all,” Frank breaks the new dragging silence. Matt imagines the questioning look on Frank’s face, as though he isn’t sure why Kath is still standing there. He’s made himself quite clear. “It was nice to meet you,” he says, pointedly, holding out his hand to Kath. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

 

Kath apparently gives up and shakes, her heels clicking hard on the floor as she walks away. Frank leans against the front desk, both arms braced on the wooden surface. Matt feels his eyes on him, and also feels Foggy shift. Frank’s heart is beating quickly now, a rapid staccato that belies what Matt knows will be a calm exterior. 

 

“Holy shit,” Foggy squeaks quietly, almost vibrating with excitement. 

 

“If we’re done here, I’d like to get back to working out,” Frank murmurs, not waiting for a reply before he turns away and moves back to the free weights, leaving Matt feeling suddenly bereft. He was expecting something more, an acknowledgement, perhaps. Or a request for a private word. But nothing. There’s nothing. Frank has put himself into retirement, turned down God knows how much money because Matt spent periods of their first weekend together freaking out about Frank being murdered. 

 

He’s turned down everything for Matt and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Does he resent Matt? Resent that he has been forced into this position?

 

Foggy is happily ignorant of all of this and is simply brimming over with excitement. “Holy shit, Matty! Holy shit! This is big! This is so huge! Maybe he can train people here? Do you think he’ll mind if we use it as promo? Do you think he’ll put it in his press statement?”

 

Matt blinks a few times behind his glasses, licking his lips. “Maybe,” he says. “I mean- maybe.”

 

“Karen is going to be stoked. She has more time to seduce him now-”

 

“I need to talk to him,” Matt replies, cutting Foggy off, warm anger beginning to build up in his chest. “Perhaps work some of this out. Hold the front desk,” he snaps, picking up his stick and stalking over to Frank, barely managing to keep up the appearance of being blind. 

 

“May I have a word with you, Mr. Castle?” Frank puts down the weight he’s holding and gives Matt his full attention. “In my office.”

 

***

 

The door clicks behind Frank and tension builds rapidly between them. Matt rests back against his desk and takes off his glasses, tucking them into his pocket. 

 

Frank doesn’t move. 

 

“You retired,” Matt says at length, cocking his head to focus all of his attention on the other man. “You just- retired.”

 

“I did,” Frank replies simply. He sounds as though he’s waiting for something more. His pulse is still too quick. 

 

“You gave up- you- that was a lot of money to turn down,” Matt continues, gritting his teeth at how difficult Frank is being. 

 

“I have enough money to retire. I wasn’t lying,” Frank says. 

 

Matt licks his lips. “You could have just told me.”

 

“You’d have told me not to. And we’d have wasted a lot of time, a lot of our weekend together, with you trying to convince me not to. Now it’s done. Even right now you’re trying to think of a way to convince me, aren’t you? To take it back.”

 

“You deserve better than to go out like that,” Matt protests. “I can’t-”

 

“I want you,” Frank cuts him off, taking a step forward. “Shit, I know it’s been a week, Matty, but you’re right, any one of us could go at any time. Why would I waste any of that when I could just- when we have this chance?”

 

“But you gave up  _ everything _ ,” Matt says again, as though Frank wasn’t there for the negotiations he just lead. 

 

“Well, not everything. I’m pretty sure I ensured a lot of you time.”

 

Matt frowns, even though he knows Frank is smiling. “But-”

 

“Matty,” Frank closes the space between them, taking Matt’s face gently in his hands. “I’m a grown ass man. I can make up my own mind about things. And I’m not an idiot. I gave it, y’know, like ten minutes of thought. It means more to me to be with you. Maybe that’s dumb. Maybe it’s too soon. But that’s my choice. I’ve lost people I love too, Matt. Now I’ve found this, and I never thought I would… feel  _ this _ again. I wanna grab our future with both hands.”

 

Matt sighs and leans into him, breathing in his scent. He’s warm and sweaty and _ fuck _ , it really shouldn’t turn Matt on as much as it does. He wants to protest again, he wants to argue some more just so that Frank knows Matt didn’t expect this, that he would never have asked for this, but he’s too stupidly pleased to pretend.

 

“I can’t remember the last time I was this happy,” he murmurs, his arms winding around Frank’s waist.

 

Frank kisses his cheek and then his jaw, then his ear. “I’m taking you out for dinner,” he whispers. “And then we’re going home and I’m going to make you even happier.”

 

“That’s an incredibly cheesy way to get me into bed,” Matt replies. “But I’ll buy it.”

  
  


***

 

Matt has had a lot of first dates, but it’s obvious to him exactly why so few of them ever progressed to a second. Frank guides him gently through the restaurant, holds him carefully as he pulls out his chair, and then, without hesitating, begins to softly read the menu out to him. No one should sound sexy reading a menu of gourmet American food, but Frank practically purrs over the steaks and Matt is having a hard time not sinking into the gentle rumble and having to make Frank repeat everything.

 

Later, he holds Matt’s hand again as they walk back through the still warm evening from where their cab has dropped them, a few blocks from Frank’s home. Matt likes it. He likes the comfort it provides. 

 

Rosa yaps before they’re even at the door, and Matt smiles at the familiarity of it, at the tiny bubble of warmth he feels knowing he’ll see the excitable puppy soon. It’s been easy to get used to this, it’s been really easy to merge his life with Frank’s. And they’re going to be working together soon. He should talk to Foggy about that. But later. Another time. 

 

He sprawls out on the covers in his tshirt and boxers, listening to Frank putting Rosa to bed. It only just occurs to him that at no point did he consider going back to his flat. He was staying with Frank whilst he was off work, but now bedtime has come again, and he’s found himself tucked between Frank’s sheets  without another thought, and the tiny skip in Frank’s pulse when he walks into the room and sees Matt there tells him all he needs to know. 

 

“You good, Matty?” Frank asks, the rumble of his voice in the otherwise silent room lighting up Frank’s body, and his lack of clothing. Like Matt, he’s only in a tshirt and boxers.

 

“Mhm,” Matt smiles, reaching out a hand that Frank immediately takes, climbing onto the bed beside Matt and leaning down for a kiss. 

 

“I know I kinda promised earlier that I was gonna try and make you really happy-” Frank murmurs softly, nuzzling at Matt’s neck.

 

“Mhm,” Matt prompts, sliding his fingers through Frank’s hair. “I mean, you’ve really set yourself up, what with your absolute public devotion to me and how I’m worth more to you than your former celebrity lifestyle-”

 

Frank laughs softly against the sensitive skin of Matt’s neck, pressing another kiss there before leaning away for a second to open his bedside drawer. When he sits up again, he touches Matt’s fingers, opening them and pressing something into his palm.

 

Matt frowns briefly before he properly touches, properly feels what he’s holding. 

 

“I dunno if it’s too soon,” Frank starts quickly, (a now familiar precursor to everything they’ve said and done, but nothing ever has been). “And I ain’t saying you have to even move in here, or leave your place at all, though I’d love it if you wanted to at some point...”

 

Matt holds the key in his hand, skin warming the metal, and there isn’t a single doubt in his mind.

 

“Come with me after work and help me pack stuff up?” he asks quietly. “It might take a couple of days-”

 

Frank cuts him off with a kiss, the first one a little peck, and then more, deeper, firmer, his hand cupping Matt’s face.

 

Matt gropes behind him to put the key on his bedside table so that both hands are free to touch and pet, and stroke, moving them from Frank’s hair to his neck and shoulders, strong upper arms-

 

Frank wraps around him and rolls him onto his back, and Matt doesn’t even think about it before he’s spreading his legs for Frank to lay between them. He grumbles happily in his chest, and Matt can smell a now familiar spike of arousal. Frank always smells so good, but like this- Matt could drown in his scent. He presses his face against Frank’s neck and breathes in. It smells of home.

 

“I’m keeping you,” Matt whispers.

 

“Good,” Frank murmurs back, his lips on Matt’s shoulder. He rolls his hips and Matt hums at the growing hardness between his legs. Oh, he’s right there with Frank, he’s desperate to pull their clothes off and be skin on skin already. But tonight- tonight he feels like they need to go slow. Make love. That’s what now is.

 

Matt turns his head and their lips meet in a slow, gentle kiss. Their tongues lick into each others mouths, hands roaming. Frank is solid, firm, everything that Matt touches is muscle. He doesn’t know how he feels to Frank, but he knows that he’s a lot softer, that Frank’s fingers can sink gently into his skin. They’re on his hips, inching over to press into the softness of Matt’s belly. He had an endearing obsession with Matt’s stomach, and he isn’t complaining at that.

 

“If I didn’t want to be inside you so badly-” Frank whispers. “I’d rub myself off on your belly again-”

 

“Oh, you liked that?” Matt smirks. “You liked marking me?”

 

“Nngh, Matty,” Frank purrs at the words. “Marking you as mine.”

 

There’s a deep, possessive note to Frank’s voice that resonates deep within Matt. And he likes it a lot. He likes that Frank is possessive and protective and  _ wants _ him. Desires him. Wants to be naked with him and come on him or in him.

 

“You wanna fuck me?” Matt asks, because he enjoys listening to the hitching in Frank’s breathing and the flutter in his pulse when he’s turned on.

 

“Matty-” Frank breathes out his name like a prayer. No one has ever said it that way. No one has ever made him feel precious just by saying his name. 

 

“Take my clothes off,” Matt says, his own fingers sliding down Frank’s back, dipping into his underwear without preamble.

 

“Okay,” Frank smirks, because it’s hardly a trauma for him.

 

He slides his hands beneath Matt’s tshirt. Matt likes that they both get into bed in clothes, perhaps because undressing is kind of a sexy part of foreplay. That, and Matt is too shy to get into bed in just his underwear, and Frank is too much of a gentleman. 

 

But Frank is eager and touching, his palms smoothing over Matt’s chest, pushing the shirt up. Matt lifts his arms to assist, keeping them stretched up over his head, offering his body to his lover. Frank is smirking, his pulse has quickened all the more, his body temperature has increased. 

 

“You’re pretty hot-” Frank rumbles happily, kneeling up and pulling his own shirt off. “And I really wanna fuck you,” he adds in reply to Matt’s earlier question. “Like this. So I can look at you.”

 

“You better make a lot of noise for me, then-” Matt replies. “Play fair.”

 

Frank makes another happy sound, his hands on Matt’s hips and yanking down his boxers unceremoniously. 

 

Matt bites his lip as his cock is freed, the cooler air hitting it and making it twitch against his belly. 

 

Frank’s hands run reverently up Matt’s thighs, then down again, pulling off his underwear properly. His gaze is heavy and heated, and Matt can actually feel it. His own hands reach out, grazing over abs and hips to the waistband of Frank’s underwear. He can see the heat of his erection, and is quietly amazed that it’s because of him. 

 

“Get the lube,” Frank growls, swatting Matt’s hands away. “I want you to touch yourself. I want you to get ready for me.”

 

“Oh-” Matt is surprised by the commanding tone, but it certainly isn’t a turn off. He finds their lube and squeezes it onto his fingers, and Frank inches back slightly to give him room. And so that he can watch better, Matt’s certain. He smirks and props his feet up on Frank’s strong thighs, opening himself up to the other man. He hears Frank’s breathing hitch again, and knows he’s doing well. But he doesn’t pause, his fingers sliding down between his legs, pushing one into himself. 

 

Frank watches hungrily, and Matt puts on a show for him, moaning softly as he penetrates himself. It’s not enough, not this angle, but it’s still good. He pushes as deep as he can, arching his back and Matt-

 

His thoughts are cut off sharply when he feels Frank gently pushing a finger in beside his own and holy shit, it feels so good. Matt moans shamelessly loud, his muscles clenching around them both. Frank’s moan echoes his own. For a moment, Matt worries that he’s going to come from just this, especially when Frank’s finger moves, pressing deeper, rubbing up against his own. 

 

“Oh my God, Oh. My God. Frank-” Matt whimpers, rocking his body onto both of them. 

 

“Jesus, you looks so good-” Frank rasps, his voice holding a note of awe that makes Matt tingle.

 

“I’m going to need you to fuck me,” Matt breathes. “Now. Now. I want to feel it-” Frank fumbles towards the drawer to get a condom, but Matt stops him. “You don’t need to. It’s- I’d rather you didn’t.”

 

“Oh, Jesus,” Frank breathes again, but he slowly slides his fingers out and uncaps the lube again, squeezing some onto his hand and slicking up his cock. The sound is filthy. Matt bites his lip and Frank moves slowly, lifting Matt’s legs up and inching forward, pushing the head of his cock against Matt’s entrance. It slips in with little resistance, though Matt is tight. 

 

“Keep going, fill me up-” 

 

Frank’s breaths are coming out in sharp gasps, and he pushes forward slowly. He feels huge to Matt without a lot of stretching, and Matt arches, trying to spread his legs more.

 

The last inch has obviously worn at Frank too much, and he pushes in and bottoms out and both of them moan. Frank is technicolour before him. He’s too beautiful.

 

Matt moves his hips back, rolls them, tries to make Frank move again, to fuck him. For a few moments, Frank basks in Matt taking the lead and groans quietly, but then he’s back in the moment, his hands smoothing over Matt’s hips before gripping them and pushing forward. Frank lifts him, repositions him with each thrust until he finds Matt’s prostate.

 

Matt cries out, his muscles clenching tightly around Frank before he’s gently repositioned again, Frank managing to somehow maintain that angle whilst he adjusts them so that he can lay between Matt’s legs, keeping them close. And yes, yes, he wants Frank close, wants them pressed together until they come, wants to feel Frank breathing against his skin, wants to feel his heartbeat.

 

Their lips press together, and Matt moans at the tenderness of the contact. Fran’s arms bracket him in on either side of his head, and his hips roll slowly, teasingly. Though each thrust still rubs his cock against Matt in just the right way and this man will probably be the death of him-

 

The thrusts are slow, drawing everything out, building up Matt’s orgasm slowly but with intensity. 

 

“Right there-” Matt breathes, his muscles clenching tighter every time Frank thrusts in. “Right there, Frank. Frank-” the slow build up is reaching it’s peak. Matt presses his fingers into Frank’s shoulders, gasping as he arches off of the bed, driving himself down onto the other man’s cock. “Oh God, don’t stop, please don’t stop-”

 

“I won’t, you know I won’t,” Frank replies gently, rocking his hips in shallower thrusts, and Matt doesn’t stand a chance. 

 

He lets out a soft cry, the air ripping from his lungs as his orgasm rushes through him, nerves feeling as though they’re on fire. He can hear himself whimpering, his pulse loud in his ears as he releases between their bodies. 

 

Frank’s hips start to stutter out of rhythm, his breathing harsher, harder.

 

“Matty- Matty, Fuck-” he rasps, burying his face against Matt’s throat as he moans, thrusting hard into him once more as he comes. 

 

Every part of Matt is still tingling as he focusses on the fluttering of their pulses, the throb of Frank still inside him- soft lips bordered by rough stubble press against his neck, and Matt lifts his fingers to card them gently through Frank’s hair. Neither of them attempt to move, to part or pull away. Matt basks in the afterglow, and Frank’s breathing and heart rate are slowing gradually.

 

“I’m gonna fall in love with you,” Frank murmurs quietly, shifting his head to kiss the corner of Matt’s mouth. 

 

Matt smiles softly, turning to meet his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few other Fratt pieces in the pipes, but I'm also very sporadic when it comes to writing. I bounce from fic to fic and add little bits to everything here and there, which is a terrible habit. But there will be a lot more Fratt from me. 
> 
> If you'd like to talk to me at any time, I love any kind of message! 
> 
> [Tumblr!](https://itsalwayshighnoonsomewhere.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I'm also on Discord as lego-hearts
> 
> Talk Fratt to me! Or whatever you like.

**Author's Note:**

> Also hit me up on Discord : Legohearts #0322


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